


no red thread but a bowstring

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Series: moonshine soaked flames [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, because fuck coda for always, bethyl, mostly - Freeform, the fix it fix to end all fix it fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: From the moment Daryl Dixon arrived on her Daddy's farm, Beth Greene has been looking for him, seeing him, knowing himIt just takes awhile for him to see her in return.A comprehensive look at Beth and Daryl's relationship, from season 2 to season 5, including a fix it for coda. Beythl moments, piece by piece, in the context of canon.winner of 2020 moonshine award for best prison!
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene, Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee
Series: moonshine soaked flames [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089878
Comments: 249
Kudos: 260





	1. The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay okay okay
> 
> let me start by saying that i was not supposed to fall in love with this stupid ship, i managed not to watch 4 seasons of walking dead while my partner was binging and then i made the mistake of sitting down during 'inmates' which lead to watching 'still' and 'alone' and well..... 53k later here we are
> 
> i wanted to write a fic that covered all of beth and daryl together without roping in all the other aspects of the show. so think of these as scenes that might've been in the show, had there been space to develop characters over excessive gore. if you ever have any questions as to where they are in the timeline, please ask! this chapter covers the end of season 2 and the gap between seasons 2 and 3.

The first time Beth Greene sees Daryl Dixon, he’s riding up the long driveway to her farm on a motorcycle, dirty and sweaty and looking every inch the kind of guy her father and mother use to tell her to stay far away from. The kind of guys who’d drink and fight and were dangerous. Who were bad news for a girl like her. 

But there’s a shot boy in a bedroom inside and a lost little girl to look for and there’s dead people milling about in Daddy’s barn, the one where Beth used to play hide and go seek in as a child and she’s learning how to shoot a gun because that’s what she needs to learn now and the whole world is a living, waking, breathing nightmare. 

But Beth doesn’t think about that. At least, not right away. 

She just sees Daryl Dixon on that motorcycle and thinks to herself, not saying a word, oh. 

_Oh._

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**The next time Beth Greene gets to really see Daryl Dixon, there are words involved.**

She sets his plate down on the bedside table. He gives a grunt of acknowledgement but nothing else; he’s got a map spread out on his lap and he’s scouring it, intensely. Beth knows what for. The lost little girl. She wonders if it’s his daughter. When he doesn’t look up at her, she’s forced to clear her throat. 

“Waiting for a tip?” he mutters, still not looking at her. 

“No.” she has no idea how to handle him. Any of them, really. These wild people, who can live in the wilderness and seem to have forgotten anything else. The women she can be around. Lori seems really nice and Carol too. Maggie’s taken to Glenn, and her father has admitted that Rick seems to be a good man, despite it all. But Beth doesn’t know about Daryl, who’s even more feral than the others. “Daddy said I should check your bandages.” 

“Why?” he asks, except it doesn’t seem to be born of anger or refusal. Either it’s because he’s used to being defiant or because he actually wants to know. 

“Infection,” she says, like it should be obvious. He’d spent the better part of a day wandering around after taking an arrow through the side. 

“Don’t got a fever,” he responds, squinting at the map. Beth stares at him, flabbergasted. She brought him lunch. She’s trying to look after him. And he's just being plain rude. 

“Well, I’m still gonna look,” she says, before she can stop herself. She leans forward, drawing on all her nerve to not turn on her heel and walk out of this room, to call Maggie and Patricia or her Daddy to deal with it. Beth is a big girl now. She can handle it - handle _him._ She pushes back his hair to look at the cut on his forehead, resisting the urge to sway on her feet. 

To Daryl’s credit, he is still beneath her fingertips as she pokes and prods the bandage, making sure there’s no yellowing pus or streaking around it like she’d been taught. She can’t stomach the blood and gore as well as Maggie. But she can still do this. Once she’s satisfied that his head will be alright, she turns to his side. This is what worried her Daddy anyways. She tugs the bedsheets away and he gives a little grunt in protest at the cold air but nothing else. 

For a moment, Beth is distracted by the wound. She peels back the bandage to make sure there’s no tell-tale signs of infection, from the front of the wound or the back, but it seems fine. Angry as all get out, but fine. Satisfied that the weeping on the dressing is normal and not anything to be concerned about, Beth secures it once more and steps back, glad to be doing something and helping somehow. 

And that’s when she sees a shirtless Daryl Dixon and feels woozy. 

He doesn’t look anything like the boys who used to cover Beth’s walls. Or like the boys from the magazine’s Maggie brought home. He’s not lean and toned and tanned, but something else entirely. For a moment, Beth can’t even think of a word for it. Then it hits her - strong. Not the sort of strong one gets from the gym, following a predetermined regimen to highlight each muscle. But really strong, the sort of strong that isn’t all abs and biceps but a thick chest and defined arms that draw a crossbow. 

She wonders how easily they’d carry her. 

“That all?” he drawls in a back in the sticks accent and she jolts back to reality, face flaming, eyes probably as wide as dinner plates. 

“Eat,” she orders, in a voice that trembles. Then, all her nerve used up, she flees. 

And that night, when Jimmy comes to sit by her, she finds herself looking him over, noting his gangly arms and thin torso and she can’t help but think and wonder about the man in the bedroom. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Beth Greene counts herself lucky to see the first time that Daryl Dixon sees her.**

She’s fighting it, every step of the way. The desire to be pulled back under the waves, to the numbness, to the forgetting, where her mother and brother and Patricia and Jimmy all still live. To go limp. To just give up, to forget it all, to not have to spend one more second in this horrible, wretched world that doesn’t have any light in it, not anymore.

But she’s fighting it. She’s standing there on that highway in the hot sun, glad for the arms of her father around her and Maggie’s hand in hers and that at least some of them have gotten away, some of them are safe, and even though the loss of them all hurts so bad, that there is a tiny flickering joy too. 

They got out. They are together. They will be okay. 

Beth is barely holding it together when the plan is being made. She clings to her father and listens without really listening, eyes darting around until she spots it. Sees that Daryl Dixon is doing the same thing, eyes roving, but this is with purpose. He’s… Counting. Counting their heads. She’d seen him do it before, whenever there’d been anything of note to happen. But before, he’d always skip right over her and Maggie and the rest of them from the farm. They didn’t weren’t in his count. They weren’t in his group. 

This time, she sees the way that his gaze lingers on them, the same way it lingers on Glenn and Carol and Carl. Beth wants to smile, but her mouth doesn’t remember how. He’s counting them. He’s taking note of the people he feels he’s in charge of protecting. Because Beth has learned that Daryl is the protector of the group. She’d heard them all say it. She’d seen how hard he looked for that little girl, only to hold back Carol when she’d come stumbling out of the barn. 

He’s counting them. They’re his now. He’s going to protect them because they count as members of the family. 

It makes it easier to fight the pull to go under. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Sometimes Beth Greene sees Daryl Dixon without him knowing what she’s really seeing and that’s what she likes best.**

She’s exhausted. She’s sweaty and tired and dehydrated, sick of walking through the woods with blades and guns and eating dog food and only sleeping for a few hours at a time and awful, it’s all so fucking awful that she just wants to scream until her lungs give out and shrivel up and die and she’s left alone for two minutes for some fucking _peace_ and —

“Beth.” Maggie is beside her now, walking side by side with her. “You okay?” 

“Mhmm.” Beth doesn’t want to seem weak. She doesn’t want to not carry her share. Even if her share is her bag and Lori’s too, since she’s getting bigger by the day and these hikes into the woods, into places that are safe, exhaust her more than she can admit. So Beth takes both bags and keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t complain. 

“Beth. You look exhausted.” Maggie is still picking at her and Beth feels ready to lose her mind but that’s not an option. Not here, not anymore. 

“I’m fine,” she tells her sister shortly. They’ll be there soon. Then Beth can sit and rest and let go of all these damn bags. 

“Beth, if you need someone else to carry it for you, just tell me and I—“

“I said I got it Maggie, christ!” Beth hisses and Maggie has the good sense to take a step back and leave Beth alone. Still furious and overwhelmed from the combination of everything, Beth continues on, stomping for good measure like that’s going to make it any better. 

“Quit.” the voice is soft from her left side and Beth turns, riling up instantly, only to hesitate. It’s Daryl. And Beth doesn’t mess around with Daryl. She’s not sure if she’s scared of him or respects him. A healthy mixture of both, maybe, since whenever she sees his crossbow she feels that much safer. 

“I can carry it,” she tells him, with less venom than she did her sister. She doesn’t dare take that tone with Daryl. But she’s not going to let him baby her either. Out of everyone, she wants him to see most that she can do this. She’s tough enough. Strong enough. 

“Clomping.” he gives her a look then stares pointedly at her boots. Beth realizes, after a second, that he’s talking about all the racket she’s making. The kind that he told them they were all making. He’s mocked them a few times for how many walkers they must draw, snapping every twig and kicking every rock and crushing every leaf. 

“Sorry,” she mutters and then tries to pick her steps more carefully, avoiding the branches she can and cringing with the ones she cannot. Daryl doesn’t say anything else. His eyes instantly go back to scanning as Rick leads them to the abandoned shack (calling it a house would be too generous) where they can hopefully sleep for the night. A few of the others are off getting the cars refueled and will join them shortly, but Lori needs to rest. And Daryl is keeping them all safe. 

He doesn’t offer to take the bags. He doesn’t try to help her. Once, that might’ve upset her. Made her think that he’s unkind, not a very chivalrous man like her Daddy always told her to find. But in this strange, twisted up world, maybe the most chivalrous thing that he can do is take her strength and word at face value, and not fret over her like the others. What an odd reversal that is. 

“Thank christ,” Lori mutters, when they get to the house. They all wait outside as Maggie, Daryl, and Carl clear it, then rush inside once it’s done. Beth discards everything on her back, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension that’s been building for ages. Maybe tonight will be the night that she’ll get so tired that she’ll actually get some sleep. Good sleep, nothing half assed like lately where the slightest shift in the breeze sets her off. 

“There’s beans,” Carl says, emerging from the kitchen with a grin. There’s general exclamation of praise from all around then, and the promise of a fire to warm them up and a chance for something good to actually eat. Beth’s spirits raise slightly, but then she’s back to settling Lori down, making sure that she’s comfortable and reclined, promising to save her some of the beans. When the others get back, they risk a fire in the squalor of the living room to heat up the few meager cans. 

“We can stay here for a few days,” Rick says, as Carol carefully pulls the cans from the flames. “Tomorrow, Daryl and I can go hunt, catch something fresh, it’ll be alright.” 

“That’d be nice,” her father says, nodding, and Beth relaxes at the idea of having a few days off, at least, to rest. That’s all she needs. A few days. With a sigh, she turns to Lori, plastering a smile on her face. 

“Here.” she offers her the rest of her beans. “I’m not that hungry.” 

“What?” concern fills Lori’s face. But Beth sees how skinny she is. Her belly doesn’t look anything like the time Beth’s second grade teacher was pregnant, all big belly and rounded curves. You can see every bit of Lori's stomach. 

“I’m so sick of beans. If I eat another one, I’m going to become one,” she attempts to joke. “Go on, have mine.” 

“Sweetie, no.” Lori gently pushes the beans back to her. “You need to eat, keep your strength up. Besides, your Daddy already shared some with me.” 

“No, really, I don’t mind.” Beth pushes it back, more insistent. “I’m not hungry. And besides, tomorrow, Daryl can get me my very own squirrel. Right?” she turns to the man, wondering if he’ll see what she’s doing. Go along with it. Daryl simply raises one eyebrow, never pausing in his eating, until Lori finally accepts the beans with a sad little smile. Beth smiles back, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach. 

That night, they all sleep as a group. They have been lately, because it gets so cold at night. The wind and the chill slips through the gaps in the shack, freezing them all. They can’t carry blankets and extra clothes, instead choosing weapons and food. So when they lay down, there’s always little groupings within the bigger ones. Glenn and Maggie, of course. Lori and Rick, on either side of Carl. Beth, usually near her father. 

But tonight, when they all collapse down in exhaustion after working out that T-Dog has the first watch, Beth picks her piece of floor just a little bit closer to Daryl. 

And she thinks she sleeps better for it. 

The next morning, he goes hunting with Rick, like promised. The rest of them take a second to breathe. To treat the little injuries that always crop up whenever they move from place to place. Try to scrub themselves clean, as best they can. Find a reason to smile, to laugh, to keep going. To just breathe. 

Beth does her best to rest while also staying productive. She helps Lori, making sure that she can rest. There’s not much else for the moment. Until Rick and Daryl come back, holding a half dozen rabbits and squirrels. Beth’s mouth waters at the thought of it, which is amusing, in a sad way. Once, she hated when her mama made rabbit stew. Now she wants to cry at the idea of it. When it’s finally done, they distribute equal bowls and everyone sits, eating in a glad silence. Beth wants to scarf down her bowl in a messy frenzy but she contains herself. Eats half. And then turns to where Lori should be sitting, so that she can — 

Beth stops in her tracks. Daryl is sitting there, between her and Lori, eating his stew like it’s nothing, like he just picked this spot for no reason at all. Except he had to have, because there’s no reason for him to be there otherwise, blocking her off. Beth is quiet, staring at him. For a second, it seems like he won’t react at all. Then he turns and looks down at her stew. 

“Not hungry?” his voice is quiet. Quiet enough that no one else will hear. 

“Uh, no,” she tries to tell him and he gives her a pointed look. Beth slowly lifts the bowl to her lips and takes a long drink, until she sees the smallest hint of a smirk within his face. It makes Beth brave - or stupid. So she jokes, “Is this the one you caught just for me?” 

“Sure.” he lets her tease. He lets it be a joke. And for the first time, Beth actually feels a real smile on her face. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


**Beth Greene knows how the world sees Daryl Dixon, but it’s never been the way she sees him.**

“Well?” Glenn’s leg is jumping, thumping against the floor so that the noise echoes throughout the barn. “What are we going to do?”

“We can’t just sit here,” Maggie hisses, pacing behind Glenn. “We have to do something.” 

“We don’t have any proof,” T-Dog says flatly and Carol gapes at him. 

“We’re well past the point of needing proof, aren’t we?” she demands. “Who are we going to prove it to? The judges?” 

“We cannot just shoot people because of what Carl overheard,” Hershel says calmly. “Not that I’m doubting your story, Carl.” he gives the young boy a little nod. 

“They said they had a little girl, that they were going to take turns doing -" here, Carol breaks off with a wide-eyed look, shaking her head mutely and unable to finish. 

“We don’t know that,” T-Dog repeats. “We don’t know what this is.” 

“If there is a little girl that is being abused then you cannot tell me that we’re not going to do everything possible to save her.” Carol looks almost scary. 

“I’m just thinking that we get in the car, turn and ride away. We have girls of our own.” T-Dog’s eyes find Beth, where she’s sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, peering at all of them.

She’s not part of this discussion. She’s a kid, not an adult. She doesn’t have a say in any of this. So she stays quiet and just listens, because it’s not like her opinion is going to factor in whatsoever. They’re talking about people they overheard while scavenging for food, bad men who sounded like they were holding some little girl captive. Now they’re trying to figure out what to do, try to save her or just save themselves and move on. 

Beth wants to be the kind of person who saves people but she’s not sure how in this world. 

“Why don’t we just send Daryl?” Glenn suggests, half joking, half not. “He’ll shoot them for a hell of a lot less.” 

“No.” Beth doesn’t realize that she’s spoken until every head swivels to look at her and Beth blinks. Daryl isn’t here to speak for himself. Maybe that’s why she does it. Or maybe that he's not here to look at her with anger if she tries to talk nicely about him. Either way, she’s stupid or she’s brave. So she takes a deep breath and says, “No.” 

“What?” Maggie is looking at her like she’s gone crazy. 

“No,” Beth says, stronger now. “No. Daryl isn’t some… Junkyard dog. You don’t just get to send him out to do your dirty work.” 

“Whoa.” Glenn is as surprised as Maggie and he’s not the only one, judging by the looks on the faces of everyone else. “I wasn’t suggesting…” 

“No, you were.” Beth isn’t sure why she’s so angry, just that she is. “Daryl’ll do whatever y’all tell him too. Because he thinks he’s a bad person and that he has to do whatever you say! You can’t just make him do messed up stuff cause y’all don’t wanna!” 

Silence greets her. And incredulous expressions as well, on every single face. Well, except Carl. He looks ready to laugh, which is alarming but Beth can’t dwell on that. She’s too busy staring down everyone else, from Maggie to Lori to her father all the way back to Glenn so that he can see just how deadly serious that she is. 

She’s not sure why she’s saying it. She’s not sure how she even knows - has Daryl said more than a few words this entire time to her? Probably not. Looked at her even less. But Beth knows. She’s been watching Daryl and she knows what she says is true. She’s seen it - whenever anything happens, the first name Rick shouts is Daryl’s. And when they need food, the first person who has to go is Daryl. And she sees the way that he holds himself, the same way that dog did that she took in when she was 8, who’d been beaten and always cowered until it was time to lash out. Daryl lashes out. But only when he’s told. And that’s not fair. 

“Beth,” Carol says slowly, softly. If it was anyone else Beth might’ve kept shouting. But she knows Carol takes care of Daryl too so she turns to look at her. Carol gives her a little nod, then turns back to the group. “Beth has a point. We’re not sending anyone in, not alone at least. If we’re doing this, we need backup.” 

And just like that the conversation moves on. Beth is forgotten again. And she’s pretty sure that no one thinks twice of her outburst, but Beth does. No one corrects her though, no one denies that it’s true that they all demand that Daryl do things they don’t want to. And that he does them. It hasn’t taken Beth too long to figure out why. Because Daryl is like a kicked puppy, who desperately wants love but cannot seek it out. 

And Beth thinks that he deserves it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone else always think of firefly when mal says about jayne "every heist he's gotta start yelling my name" because anytime shit goes sideways, the first name rick yells is Daryl? anyone else a little emo about it? just me? k cool
> 
> updates will be saturday mornings, reviews are the most beloved tool a writer can get, and bethyl fueled meltdowns can be found at my tumblr - raginglittlehurricane 
> 
> it's an honor to be here with all of you fine folk, please let me cry about daryl dixon's arms with y'all


	2. And The Moments Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title for this chapter could be 'let daryl say the word fuck, he deserves it' 
> 
> thank you so much for all the love friends - i adore all of you. 
> 
> this chapter roughly covers the entirety of season 3 - just a few sweet, sweet Bethyl moments.

**There are times when Beth Greene thinks that Daryl Dixon might never see her.**

Beth almost can’t stomach the idea of there being a chance for hope. After an entire winter with hardly any of it, holding too much seems like a dangerous thing again. But she looks at the prison and she thinks that this might be okay. It might be worth it. That the hope she feels won’t burn her like it has in the past, time and time again. It’s going to be alright. This is going to be a good thing. Everything is going to work out. 

First they just have to make it safe. 

Beth has gotten over the fact that she’s a killer now. Carl had once tried to make her feel better, after she’d caved in the skull of a walker so fresh it still looked mostly human. 

“They’re not people anymore, Beth,” he’d encouraged her. “They’re like…”

But he didn’t have the words. And Beth thinks that it’s because deep down, they all know that these things are still people. Monsters, maybe, but people too. And so it still feels a little bit like murder. 

The plan is a good one. Beth likes that she gets to help, even if it involves more killing of walkers. She’s long since gotten over the messiness of it. She once used to get dizzy at the sight of blood. That’s been beaten right out of her. So she hefts the piece of metal in her hands, feeling the weight of it. Once she might not have swung anything heavier than a softball bat, laughing at some pickup game on the 4th of July. 

Not anymore.

“Hey!” she rattles the chain link fence. “Hey! Hey! Over here!” the yells attract the walkers, turning more and more towards them. Beth waits until they’re within reach, then jams the metal through their eyes, their skulls, their mouths, whatever she can reach. Each one she kills means that Rick will be a bit safer, makes the chance of them clearing the prison all the easier. So despite her muscles trembling and exhaustion making her want to lay down and sleep, Beth keeps yelling until her voice is hoarse. Again and again. “Hey! Hey! Over here! C’mon!” 

Stab. Yell. Stab. Yell. Stab. Yell. Over and over and over and over until all of the sudden - nothing. No more walkers rattling the fence, trying to get to her. No more snarls and snapping and teeth gnashing, just utter, blissful, silence. 

“Oh my god,” she hears her sister say, but for once it is not from horror or pain or grief or exhaustion. It’s from… Happiness? Relief? 

Beth could cry. 

They all rush inside. For just a second, Beth doesn’t fear what might be behind her. She just spins in a wide circle, relishing the safety of it all. 

And then stops. There’s a walker - half rotted away. Just a top, with one arm, a torso, and a head with a mouth that can still bite. Creeping through the grass. Creeping towards the rest of the group, who are too happy with their work and are oblivious to see the danger coming towards them. Beth reacts without thinking much, because violence is now instinct, the same way singing and dancing and humming once was. 

Two, three, four, five strides forwards, coming at them quickly. They don't seem to notice. Maybe they think it’s a celebration, are about to open their arms to embrace her, swing her around. But Beth walks right past them, raises her weapon high, and brings it down with a mighty blow on the walker’s head, spraying blood and gore in every direction, including herself. Beth wipes it away, turning to them, disbelief on every face. 

“One was left,” she tells them, like it should be obvious. For a second, it’s only disbelief. Then Daryl gives a little chuckle and a shrug and keeps walking, slapping her back ( and hard) on the way by, head on a swivel for anything else that might crawl towards them. But nothing does. And they are safe. And Beth thinks that hope isn’t such a dangerous thing after all. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Beth Greene doesn’t like that Daryl Dixon never sees her, but at least no one else sees him.**

“Beth.” Maggie is beaming, wrapping her up in a hug. For once, Beth doesn’t try to fight her off. She’s happy too, feels drunk on it. Swaying in the cell with her big sister, safe and dry and happy. She embraces Maggie, letting her sister stroke her hair and kiss her forehead like her mother used to when she was a girl. “We’re safe.” 

“Yeah.” it makes Beth want to cry. “Safe.” 

“We’re going to be okay here,” Maggie says, half to Beth and half for herself too. “We’re going to be okay, Beth. You can grow up here.” 

“Yeah,” Beth echoes, not sure how to tell Maggie that she’s already grown up. But Maggie is still talking. 

“We’ll be safe. Lori can have the baby. Carl can grow up, Daddy can get old, Glenn and I…” she breaks off, blushing, but Beth knows exactly what she would’ve said. She wants to smile for her sister, but her mouth doesn’t quite work like that, not anymore. “I just wish that the others were still with us, you know?” Maggie’s voice catches. 

“Yeah,” Beth repeats, a little bit fainter now. Her grief still feels like a wide ocean that she can’t even dip a toe in or the current will pull her right under and she’ll drown. 

“There’s not even a guy for you to have a crush on,” Maggie mutters, with a little sniffle. “Rick’s with Lori. Well, maybe. And Glenn’s with me. Carl’s just a kid. And T-Dog is too old. And Daryl is just…” she gives a little laugh. “Well, Daryl." 

“Yeah,” Beth says for the third time, fainter still. Maggie gives her a sympathetic look. Let her think it’s because she mourns Jimmy. Or misses him. She might’ve, once. Because that’s what the Beth of old would’ve done. 

“Maybe some nice boy will come along. I mean, look at everything else that’s happened already,” Maggie tries to cheer her up, rubbing her shoulders. “Might be another miracle. Who knows.” 

“Sure.” Beth nods, because that’s what she has to do. She can’t lie to Maggie, never has been. So she just omits the truth and when Maggie squeezes her hand, she squeezes right back. 

And then they go to see everyone and for the moment everything is okay because Maggie doesn’t know she’s lying to her and might have been for a long while. Because Daryl is not just Daryl. But Maggie can never know that. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Beth Greene counts more on Daryl Dixon to see her than she even realizes.**

“Is it safe?” Beth asks Carl quietly, urgently. 

“I think so,” Carl whispers back, their heads close together. “I saw it on the map in the warden's office. It’s in the cleared area. We should be okay, we’ll just have to go quick.” 

“I can be quick,” she says, trying to give him more confidence than she feels. Carl doesn’t smile back at her, but how can he? After everything? After what he’s gone through, it’s a miracle he’s even here. Still standing. Still wanting to help, help his newborn baby sister. 

That’s why they’re doing this, after all. Beth had been told to take care of Carl, so that’s what she’s going to do. And she’ll take care of the baby too, because Lori was her friend and that’s what Lori’s memory deserves and if Beth doesn’t do something she’ll go mad from grief so she’s making a plan. 

“Me too.” Carl nods. He’s taking this seriously. Of course he is. He’s lost his mother. If they don’t get supplies for the baby, she’ll die too. And if everyone else is going to go off into the world, risking their lives for everything, then Beth can risk walking through a prison cleared of walkers for the same thing. She’ll do her part. She’ll carry her weight. 

“We’ll go after we eat,” she tells him. It’s always chaotic at that time. Everyone is eating, someone carrying food off to the guard tower to do a change of watch, and everyone is lost in grief already. No one will think to notice Beth and Carl slip away. They’ll be back before anyone knows it and all the better for it. “You got the directions?” 

“Here.” Carl taps his head. “I basically memorized that map. I know where the place is.” 

“Okay.” Beth catches his hand and squeezes. “There might not be much Carl. But maybe we can find something for your sister.” 

“Thanks for helping Beth,” he responds and she gives him a sad smile. 

“We’ll help each other,” she says and hopes like hell it’s true. 

They eat in silence, trying not to look at each other too much. Give too much away. Everyone else is lost in their own thoughts, their own mess. But then when everyone is done, when the clatter of plates and forks start up, Beth and Carl both sneak away. Carl with his gun, Beth with a knife and a shotgun, and they slip out and meet up. 

They’re going to help the baby. 

“This way.” Carl leads her around the corner. “The map says it’s going to be up past the big building, to the left.” 

“You sure it’s clear?” Beth glances around herself, out of habit. Months in the wilderness taught her that and even though there is security now, she doesn’t think it’s a lesson she can ever forget. 

“Yeah,” Carl answers, but his gun is up and so is Beth’s and they carefully walk around, making their way to their target. Their prize. 

Carl had told her there was a trailer of some sort, labeled for conjugal visits. Carl had asked her what it meant and Beth had decided a diplomatic answer was that it was where families could meet. When his eyes had lit up and he’d thought that there might be baby stuff there, Beth had shook her head. But then when he said there was an unlabeled room off to the side and she’d thought maybe, just maybe, it would have some things that families would use on a visit. 

At least, that’s the hope at the moment. 

“There?” she asks, pointing to a hulking dark shape in the distance. Carl shakes his head and gestures more towards the left. Beth follows him around the curve of the wall. Left, right. Ears primed for any rustle or groan out of place. Nothing. Nothing at all. Beth is cautious but she’s hopeful, and when Carl slowly opens a door to the left of a trailer, she holds up her shotgun and waits for the awful nightmare to begin. But it doesn’t. And then when Carl shines a flashlight, Beth gives a little giggle. 

It’s like a daycare room. Maybe, once, long ago, this room held families who came to visit and had little boys and girls in here while their parents spent time in the trailer. They left things behind. Beth can see the shapes in the dusk. Blankets. Toys. If they’re lucky, diapers and wipes and bottles and stuff. But Beth will just take blankets to wrap her in and a bottle to feed her. That’s all she asks. 

“Go,” Carl says, gesturing with his gun to the room. “I’ll cover.” 

“Okay.” knowing that he has her back, Beth darts into the room. She sees a bin in the corner and smiles. That will do for a crib. For now. She gathers things and throws them inside it, making a mental checklist. She doesn’t see formula. But she’s got blankets and bottles and clothes and a pacifier and she feels good. She feels useful. 

“Got it all?” Carl asks, when Beth finishes looking through cabinets. 

“I think Daryl and Maggie will have more luck in town,” she tries to reassure him, “but we’ve got a real good start here Carl. She’s not gonna be cold. And maybe she can sleep in here.” 

“Yeah.” there’s almost a smile on Carl’s face when he agrees. “C’mon, let’s go back.” 

“Everyone is gonna be so happy with this.” Beth places the shotgun on her back, using both hands to carry the bin of things. “See Carl, I told you we’d take care of it.” 

“Yeah.” he looks happy at the praise.

Together they walk back out, both satisfied with their haul. Beth is glad that Carl’s had a chance to focus on something with action, instead of his grief. Something good, something helpful. She’s not sure how Carl might feel about his little sister, the whole reason why his mother is gone. But from the looks of things, the willingness for him to try to help her, she thinks that he’s going to be okay. And so is the baby. 

Happy thoughts make her lose focus.

And losing focus means trouble. 

“Beth!” Carl’s yell is frantic but it doesn’t drown out the tinkling noise of breaking glass behind her. Carl is too far away, peaking around the corner to make sure the coast is clear. That leaves her back defenseless. And when she turns around, she sees that there is a walker, much too close to her, having broken out of a window in a nearby building. Behind her, and gaining, and she can’t get her hands free, can’t get her shotgun. Beth is useless and frozen in fear. 

He looks like Shawn. He is tall, lanky, ginger like Shawn had been. Young too. Beth stumbles back, mind trying to catch up, screaming at her to _do something!_ \- but the bin in her hand is for the baby and she can’t drop it and she just has to get away, _get away, get away, **GET AWAY.**_

She trips. Of course she does. The unevenness of the pavement, the cracks in it. She’s trying to keep one eye on the stupid thing, watching out for more, because there’s always more and everything goes flying. She screams when a hand closes on her ankle and she thinks of her Daddy with one leg and that she’s going to get bit and she’s going to die. She’s going to die. Fuck, she’s going to —

And then an arrow whizzes past her head, ruffling the hair just above her ear and the walker goes down with the shaft buried in one eye, stilling and Beth is fighting off the memories of this being her mother, her brother, her family, her loved ones, and she wants to slip under all of it, _let it all go and not fight anymore_ and then she’s being yanked backwards by two strong arms, pressed to a broad chest and someone is yelling in her ear. 

“Beth! Beth! Are you bit? Beth! Are you bit?” 

She’s never heard such panic in Daryl’s voice. Not directed at her, at least. She blinks, feeling the adrenaline wearing off now and shakes her head, trying to get the words out but she can only mutely shake her head, as Daryl hovers over her, blue eyes wide with panic, hands patting her face, shoulders, thighs, ankles, the whole time demanding if she’s been bit, if she’s been hurt, if she’s okay, _is she fucking bit?_

“No,” she finally wheezes, heart restarting. “Not bit.” 

“Fuck.” Daryl rocks back on his heels, one hand going to rub the back of his head. “What the fuck were you thinking, girl?” 

That brings Beth’s focus back. She looks up, over the dead walker. The items are scattered around it but thanks to arrows being a lot neater than guns or bats, it looks like most of the blood has missed the blankets. 

“Are there more?” she asks him and he opens and closes his mouth wordlessly. Beth looks around, but none seem to be coming, so she gets to her feet and goes back, grabbing the items and chucking them back into the bin. She trusts Daryl to have her back. And Carl too, though he looks white as a ghost. 

“What the fuck were you two doing?” she hears Daryl demand of Carl. 

“It was supposed to be clear,” Carl responds, sounding almost dazed. 

“We ain’t cleared the buildings yet!” Daryl sounds ready to rage. “You fucking kidding me? What the fuck did you risk this all for?” 

“For the baby.” Beth makes it back to them, holding her cargo up. Her heart is still racing but she’s filled with anger now. Anger that she has to be rescued. Anger that it has to be Daryl. Anger that she’s in this fucked up world to begin with. 

Daryl looks ready to bite her head off, but she knows he won't. She saw him holding the baby yesterday, feeding her that bottle with a shy but happy smile on his face. He can be mad all he wants, but he understands risking everything for that little girl. She pushes past both of them and this time she keeps her head up, on high alert, all the way back to their cells so that she can give Carol her findings. 

It’s worth it to hear everyone exclaim over it. To see Carol carefully and tenderly wrap the little baby up, to hear Maggie promise that tomorrow they’ll get everything sorted and get more formula and it’s all going to be okay. To have her father kiss her head and tell her what a good job she did and then afterwards, to see Carl look at his baby sister and actually seem like a kid for once. 

Beth is so busy being caught up in the glow, she doesn’t realize that Daryl has come alongside her. She doesn’t want to look at him, to see if his expression is pity or loathing or apathy. But then he elbows her and her gut reaction is to give him an affronted look before realizing that he’s offering her something. A black marker, thick and dark. She takes it, unsure of his intent, before he starts walking to where the bin is. She follows. 

“Here.” he puts it on it’s side in front of her and she blinks. 

“What do you want me to do with this?” she asks him, wondering if this is somehow payback for being stupid and risking so much for it. 

“Write on the side,” he tells her and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. Well, she gathered _that._

“What do you want it to say?” she tries again and now it’s him rolling his eyes. 

“Lil Asskicker,” he replies, like it’s obvious. Beth giggles then, at this nickname he’s dead set on giving her. And it’s nice to know he’s not mad at her. That he has her back and he’s not going to chide her for being foolish or reckless, even though she’d done her best to make sure it’d go smoothly. 

So she gets to work. And when she’s done, it looks halfway decent. Pretty fitting for a baby's crib in the middle of an apocalypse. She looks at Daryl for his approval and he gives it with a nod and a smirk and Beth snaps the cap of the marker on. 

Yeah, it was worth it. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**Beth Greene knows who she is and it’s Daryl Dixon’s fault if he doesn’t see that.**

They’re talking about getting Maggie and Glenn back. Beth sits there, listening, for once not having the baby in her arms, and fear and anger is burning through her, white hot, like a thing she might be able to touch. Grab hold of and use it to shatter the world around her into pieces until she can get her sister back. She needs Maggie back. 

“I’ll go,” she says, to the men, to the rescuers and is ignored. Roundly ignored. Because she’s Beth, she’s little and weak and pathetic and would slow them down, but this is Maggie. This is her big sister. She needs to do something. And when Rick nods to Daryl and Oscar and his eyes skip right over her when they prepare to depart, Beth wants to scream. 

She picks the one most likely to break to her pleas, but also who can actually convince Rick. She grabs Daryl’s arm when they all go to leave, anchoring him to the spot when he turns to look at her, looming over her with his crossbow and his scowl and she swallows hard, but this is _Maggie._ This is who she needs to get through the day. And she has to get her back or she’s going to regret every second she sat here and did nothing. 

“No.” Daryl’s voice is quiet but firm. Beth opens her mouth to argue, to fight back, but he’s shaking his head. “No, Beth, you ain’t going.” 

“Why, cause I can’t fight?” she riles up instantly. “I can. I’ve killed walkers too!” 

“Yeah, walkers,” he says bluntly, staring down at her. “Not people. You ain’t no murderer Beth. And where we’re going, there’s gonna be people. You can put down someone if it means shooting a living person through the skull?”

“If it means getting Maggie back, yeah!” she says, but with less venom than before. She hates to admit it. But he has a point. So far, Beth has stuck to killing walkers. And even that has gotten uncomfortable sometimes, when they’re freshly turned and not decayed and their skulls are still hard.

“Hey.” his tone has softened, not bouncing off the walls so much anymore. He puts his rough, heavy hand on her shoulder. “Beth, listen. It’s not that you ain’t a fighter. But this is different.” 

“But she’s my sister,” Beth whispers, tiredly and sadly and she slumps forward towards him, feeling all the strength going out of her. Her forehead connects with his solid chest. “I gotta get her back, Daryl.” 

“I’ll get her back,” he offers instead and Beth knows it makes more sense. “You stay. Take care of Carol and lil asskicker for me. Carl too.” 

“You’ll bring her back?” Beth asks, looking up into his blue eyes. He nods but doesn’t reassure her beyond that. And she finds she doesn’t need it. So she nods, takes a deep breath, and steps back. He waits just a second longer, like he’s making sure all the fight doesn’t go out of her again and then he’s gone too and Beth closes her eyes. 

Well, if anyone is going to be able to get her sister back, it’ll be Daryl.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**The times when Beth Greene can’t see Daryl Dixon, that’s when she misses him most.**

"You've got a knack for that.” Carol gives her a smile and Beth relaxes a little bit, bouncing Judith in her arms. She’s who she’s been looking for and she’s glad she’s found her.

"Just trying to do my part,” she says, smiling at Carol, who is folding the laundry. 

"Sophia used to wake the neighbors. 3:00 AM, like clockwork,” Carol tells her with a smile as Beth finally comes alongside her. "Ed stayed at a friend's most nights till she calmed down.” 

"I always wanted a child,” Beth admits, looking down at the little girl. It’s a silly, stupid thing to say but she knows out of anyone, Carol won’t judge her. Won’t berate her for something so foolhardy. Having Judith is hard enough. And she’s seen what this new world does to kids, kids like Carl and to kids like Sophia. Beth’s fought so hard to live. In this world, they can’t take unnecessary risks. And having a baby, carrying it to term, delivering it, that’s all a risk. And one that took Lori from them. Which reminds Beth why she’s here now. Why she's so upset. "She wouldn't have made it if Daryl hadn't been here. He couldn't stand to lose anyone else.” 

"Sounds like him.” Carol has the same sad little smile on her face and something twinges in Beth’s heart, like a long forgotten muscle getting pulled too far in one direction. This is why she’d come to seek the older woman out. Because everyone else seems to be okay with it all. To shrug and move on, to not even really care that Daryl is out there with his brother, all those walkers, and a crazy man kidnapping them one by one, returning them beaten and bloodied, or not returning them at all. 

Beth is so filled with fear, she can feel it in her arms. It’s weight is the same as Judith, the same as hope, the same as guilt and grief and rage. It’s so heavy and Beth is so scared that she can hardly talk about it, but she has to. She has to see that someone else sees sense in all of this. 

"I don't see why he had to leave,” she says, half a question and half a plea. For Carol to reassure her that he’ll come back, that it’s all going to be okay. But Carol doesn’t offer empty platitudes, not even when she adds, "Merle sounds like a jerk."

"Men like Merle get into your head,” Carol states, her movements becoming slower, more robotic. Lori had told them, back at the farm, to be easy around Carol, that she’d survived abuse. That she was stronger, but no sudden gestures or loud noises, don’t raise your voice, don’t back her into a corner. She’s stronger now, but Beth sees what lingers. "Make you feel like you deserve the abuse."

"Even for Daryl?” Beth can’t imagine anyone telling Daryl what to do. Anyone striking him, hitting him. Because Daryl is so strong. Daryl is the strongest person she knows, even more so than her Daddy, who let his leg get hacked off with a dull blade. It’s… Daryl. 

There’s a long pause and Carol gives a little sigh, like she’s not sure how to explain these things to Beth. Like she’s just some little girl, who doesn’t understand things. But Beth does and so she’s glad when Carol speaks, it’s with the truth. "I'm hardly the woman I was a year ago, but if Ed walked through that door right now breathing and told me to go with him, I'd like to think I'd tell him to go to hell."

"You would,” Beth says instantly. Carol wouldn’t leave them. They’re all a family now, a family. What she doesn’t say is that if another person came to take Carol away, Beth would fight him to stop it. They all would. But she doesn’t say that, because she hopes Carol knows.

"It doesn't matter,” Carol mutters and Beth knows where this is going, what Carol meant to tell her. That abusers still hold sway, even after they’ve been gone. And can Beth say that she wouldn’t abandon everything to go with Maggie, if Maggie was all she had left in this world? But Merle isn’t all Daryl has left. He has them. And Beth can’t understand why this all hurts so bad, just that it does, and she needs someone to know that she’s scared.

"We're weak without him.” those are the words she’s been trying to choke out ever since Rick told them where Daryl was and that he wasn’t coming home and Beth had gone to hold Judith and not put her down because if Daryl isn’t here, who is going to protect them? 

"We'll get through this, too. Tyreese and his friends seem capable.” Carol sounds confident but it doesn’t address the central issue of this. It doesn’t matter how many people they add to their group, with guns and blades, none of them are Daryl. None of them are _right._

"I'm pissed at him for leaving,” she blurts out, childishly, like this is all a game or a party and he went home early without saying goodbye. 

"Don't be.” Carol’s answer is too quick, too sad. Like she’s fighting down the same thoughts. "Daryl has his code. This world needs men like that.” 

Beth wants to correct her. Beth wants to scream that the world doesn’t need men like him, they do. The world doesn’t need him, damnit. She needs him. Judith needs him. Carl and Carol and Maggie and Glenn and Rick - Rick more than anyone - they need him more than his brother, who hurt her sister and her sister’s boyfriend, who would slaughter them all if the stories are to be believed. How can he do this? How can he do this? 

She’s so mad at him she wants to scream. 

And she’s so scared she wants to cry. 

And she misses him so much she wants to double over with the pain of it. 

Goddamn Daryl Dixon. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Sometimes Beth Greene wants to scream so that Daryl Dixon will see her but there are better tactics.**

She hasn’t talked to him since he’d gotten back. Not properly, at least. There hasn’t been enough time for that, not with the threat on their heads. And she’s not sure she wants to, not sure that she won’t grab him by the leather vest and rattle him until his brains are scrambled, like hers have been since he’s left. 

But now, at least, she’s met Merle. And she thinks that somehow, she understands him all the better for it. 

But they’re all tense tonight. Andrea is gone. There’s no good way out of this. They’re going to have to go down fighting, this little group of them. And they sit together, in the dark, far apart enough that it seems like an accident but close enough that Beth can see all their faces in the shadows. And she remembers the first night here, when her father had asked her to sing. Parting Glass, the traditional Irish song. For bar closes and funerals, which her father always said were more alike than most people realized. 

No Parting Glass tonight. Something else maybe. 

So she opens her mouth and she sings, because singing is something nice, and they should have nice things, even now. 

“They hung a sign up in our town…” She looks to Carol first, who is smiling. And Rick, who is coming down the stairs with Judith. Glenn and Maggie, side by side. Michonne, far away, but watchful. Even Merle comes closer, to listen. "Oh, you got to hold on, hold on. You gotta hold on. Take my hand, I'm standing right here. You gotta hold on…” 

She wills herself not to look in front of her. There, where Daryl stands next to her father. Daddy is listening, a tiny smile on his face, but she can hardly see Daryl’s. All well and good, because the next lines, they’re going to make her blush. They’re too obvious. She looks to Carol, willing her voice to be strong. To not tremble. 

"Well, he gave her a dime-store watch, and a ring made from a spoon. Everyone's looking for someone to blame,” Beth sings and then she can’t stop herself. Her eyes drift. They look. They look to Daryl, and she can’t stop the tiny hitch of breath, searching for the blue eyes to land on hers. "When you share my bed, you share my name…” 

The briefest flicker. Of something, anything. And it’s not the candlelight, it’s not the flickering of flame. It’s more. Beth knows. Knows he’s seeing her. 

Just have told hold on. 

After she’s done singing, they all disperse. Beth goes to her cell, where Judith is sleeping in her bin. She’ll outgrow it soon. They’ll have to get a crib or something to make sure she’s got room to stretch her little legs. She smiles down at the baby, rubbing a gentle hand over her tummy, watching her breathe soft and slow. 

“Beth.” the voice is quiet from her doorway and she turns, looking at Daryl standing there, haloed by the light. She doesn’t allow herself to feel the thrill of happiness. Or relief. Or anger. She just looks at him, one hand on the steady rise and fall of Judith’s chest. 

“Hi,” she says, softly. Like she’ll startle him. 

“She okay?” he asks and gestures to the bin. Beth resists both a smile and frown, somehow feeling such different emotions at once. Of course he’s worried for his favorite person in the world. But what about the rest of them? 

“Peachy,” she replies and that allows Daryl to venture in further, to look over the slumbering girl. “She missed you though.” 

“Missed her too,” he mutters back, watching Judith for a long minute before his eyes dart to hers for just a moment. “And I’m sorry.” 

“For?” she asks simply, wondering if he’s still talking to the baby or to her now. Wonders if it matters. 

“Shouldn’t of gone.” 

“But you came back.” that’s the more relevant bit here. That’s what matters. And Beth is mad at him for the time he’s been gone. But she’s more glad for the time he’ll be here. 

“Someone oughta mind her,” he grumbles, gesturing to the little girl. “Stick around, chase off boyfriends.” 

“Thanks for coming back,” she tells him, unsure of what the words really mean. Just that it’s something else. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Sometimes Daryl Dixon sees more than Beth Greene can even know.**

“Beth.” Daryl grabs her arm as she passes by, bringing back some of the Judith's clothes, now clean and dry. He pulls her into an empty cell, ignoring her little squeak of surprise. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks him, because they don’t talk until something is wrong. 

“How old are you?” he asks her bluntly and Beth blinks, tilting her head, wondering where the hell this is coming from. She’d been no idiot when Axel had asked her. But somehow she doesn’t think that Daryl means in the same way. 

“17,” she answers slowly, “but I’ll be 18 in—"

“No.” he shakes his head, looking almost crazed. Beth hasn’t ever seen him so off balance, so odd, but then again Beth has never met Merle and now he’s in the cafeteria and he never shuts up and his voice makes the hair on the back of Beth’s neck rise up. “Nah, no. No. Merle asks, you’re 15.” 

“15?” it almost makes Beth giggle. “Daryl, why I gotta—“

“Merle’s lotta things,” he mutters, looking at the ground, a tinge of pink on his cheeks, just above his scruff. “But he won’t touch no little girls.” 

That brings Beth to silence. She looks at him, waiting to see if it’s going to be a joke or something else but then it’s not. He’s quiet and all it means is that he’s watching out for her, against his big brother, who is rude and gross but he won’t touch little girls. And Beth is still a little girl. And he’s protecting her. 

“Okay,” she agrees, after a beat of silence and then repeats, “okay." to see some of the tension run out of him. 

“Stay away from him,” he orders her and Beth opens her mouth to ask what about him, is he going to stay away too, but Daryl is walking away then and so Beth follows, because she’s got to put away the clothes. 

“Who’s that, baby brother?” Merle drawls, leaning against the bars and looking into the cell block. “Pretty little thing, whatcha doing going into a cell all alone like that with her, huh?” 

Beth sees the hunch of Daryl’s shoulders. And she is tired, so tired, and she can’t fight because she can’t reload a gun but she’s always had a real sassy lip, learned at the hands of Maggie and Shawn. So she spins around, putting the basket of clothes on her hip so it makes her lean all cockeyed to one side, the way she’s seen Maggie do whenever she’s making eyes at Glen. And she sees that it works, sees Merle’s eyes get a little bigger, sees his knuckles tighten on the bars. 

“I’m Beth Greene,” she says, all soft and sweet like the Georgia peach she might’ve been before all the peaches rotted away. “And I’m 15. You like little girls, Mr. Merle Dixon?” 

“Fuck.” he lets it out in a long hiss, appraising her differently now. Less lust, more… Well she’s not sure what it is. Then he looks up at Daryl, something gleaming in his eyes. “Then you really got no business being a cell with her, jackass.” 

“He was just teaching me something,” she says, still warm and soft. “Like how to put an arrow through the gut of anyone who might touch me.” 

It’s a lie. She knows it’s a lie. So does Daryl. Maybe Merle does too, because if he knows Daryl then he’ll know that no one touches his shit. None of them. But still, it makes Merle draw back, a crooked little smile on his face. 

“Well, shit. He oughta. Dangerous world out there for you, girl.” 

“Dangerous world in here for me too,” she responds tartly and then goes to where her Daddy is watching the baby. And when she passes by Daryl, he’s got a look on her face that she can’t quite read, but when has she ever? 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**The sides of Daryl Dixon that Beth Greene sees are vast and daunting and sometimes she fears them.**

“Beth,” her Daddy says, when Daryl rides back into the prison after going after his brother. He's alone but probably not unhurt and Beth knows what her father's orders are for. He’s obviously not hurt badly. Beth can tend to those wounds easily enough. And everyone else is getting ready for the attack. She’s what they can spare, so once everyone has a chance to see him, to nod to him, Beth follows behind him to take him to what counts as their infirmary, which is really just where Beth had tried to stack their medical supplies as neatly as possible. 

“You hurt?” she asks him, for lack of anything better to say. “Bit?” 

“Nah.” he sits, or rather slumps, down. Lays his head on his hands. Beth has seen this posture before, the hollow pain in his eyes. There is no questioning about the results of his trip. The only question now is if he got to say goodbye or not. Beth knows it’s more than likely not. 

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” she offers, getting the rubbing alcohol and some swabs. He’s never going to let her bandage him up so Beth won’t ask, but at least she can make sure he doesn't get infected. Daryl doesn’t protest but he doesn’t give her any sign of consent until she’s rubbing the wounds clean and he releases his breath in one long hiss, steady at first until it wobbles and then he takes a sharp intake of breath and his shoulders shake a little bit and then he’s crying. 

Beth drops the swabs and alcohol and kneels in front of him, trying to figure out what he needs. He’s not a hugger, Daryl Dixon. He’s not even a toucher, but he’s lost his brother. His only kin left. And for all that Merle was, he’s dead now and that must hurt. If Maggie died, Beth would want a hug. So carefully, she wraps her arms around him and brings him in tightly and he puts his face in the crook of her neck and he cries. He cries. He sobs and shakes and Beth holds on for dear life. 

“He was my brother,” he says brokenly, more to her jugular than to her face but that’s fine. Beth’s got her arms around him and it’s going to be okay. _“He was my brother.”_

“I know. I know,” Beth whispers, like she does know, like she has any idea at all what it’s like to be Daryl Dixon. 

“I hated him. He left me! He was - was - cruel, like dad. Didn’t give a shit about me, like ma. Left me. Beat me. Didn’t give a shit.” he’s weeping now and Beth just holds tight to him. “Showing up high or drunk out his mind, calling me Darylina. Tell me what a waste I was, make fun of me for asking to go with him. Fuck, I was just a kid.” he looks up at her, a big man but somehow still a broken little boy. “Why didn’t he take me?” 

“I don’t know.” Beth can’t do anything but tell him the truth. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Daryl. Any of it.” 

“Why?” he asks in an agonized rasp and Beth isn’t sure what for. Why Merle left, why Merle died, why this happened, why now, why any of them, why any of this. She doesn’t have the answers. She doesn’t think she ever will. 

“I don’t know.” she gives him honesty. “I’m sorry, Daryl. I am. But I’m here. You’re here. We’re all still here.” 

“I fucking hate him,” he tells her miserably. “And I’m going to fucking miss him.” 

“I know.” she doesn’t understand. Not really. She’ll never be able to hate Maggie, not ever. “You can feel both.” 

“Fuck.” he grinds out, like he’s trying to get control and it evades him, again and again. “Thought he’d survive to see the end of it all. Mean bastard. Wouldn’t die. Not like this. Not my fucking brother.” 

Beth decides here that it’s no longer her job to say anything. She’s been chosen to bear witness to the grief of Daryl Dixon and so she will. She reaches up, squeezes his shoulders. 

“You can tell me about it,” she promises him, “and I’ll just listen.” 

“What’s there to tell?” he snaps at her, grief shifting to rage quick as rain to a flash flood. And the gates are opened now. “My Daddy wasn’t no Hershel. Merle wasn’t no Maggie. My mama drank herself to death, burned up a house when I was a kid. Daddy beat me black and blue for shits and giggles, whenever he damn well pleased. Why? Cause I was a kid. Because he could! No one protected me. Not Merle. Not my mama. Nobody gave a fucking shit about me. I was nothing. Piece of fucking trash. My Daddy carved up my back, just cause he could!” here, Daryl gets up, whirls away from her, shedding his vest and his shirt, showing Beth the knotted and raised scars on his back. 

Beth is sinking. She is sinking through the floor, into hell, because she’s known Daryl Dixon for over a year now and still she knows nothing, has no idea who he is. She reaches out for him, desperate for anything. “Daryl, please…” 

“I got my ass beat,” he yells, so blind with rage she knows he’s not seeing her anymore. “I got my ass beat and when I told Merle, when I asked him for help, he fucking laughed! He told me to grow up, stop being such a little bitch! Said that’s how men are made. I was a kid. I was just a fucking kid. And now he’s dead and the worst part is he’s still here.” he gestures to his head, his face screwed up in agony. “He’s still here. I hear him every single single day. I can hear him now! I can still hear him, Beth.” his face falls again and his knees give out. Beth catches him before he hits the floor. 

“Hey, hey, easy.” she has her arms around him, can feel the scars now. “Easy.” 

“He says I failed him,” he reveals with a choked sob and Beth decides that enough is enough. 

“You didn’t fail anyone,” she says firmly. “Merle was his own man. He made his own choices. So did you. That’s all this is, Daryl. We just make choices. And we live with them too. You can make the choice to let him go. You can live with this. But you have to make the choice Daryl.” 

“How?” he asks harshly and Beth doesn’t know the answer to that either. 

“You just do,” she says simply. “You just… Will.” 

For a long minute he doesn’t do anything. He stays still and quiet and Beth thinks she’s said something wrong, something horrible, but then he looks at her and he nods. He nods and takes his shirt and vest from her hands and he walks off, cuts still bloody and weeping. And Beth thinks that’s maybe she’s done the right thing after all. 

* * *

  
  
  


**Beth Green hates to see Daryl Dixon go, but she loves… No, she hates to watch him leave too.**

There’s something about watching him and the others go that makes Beth's heart pound. She tells herself it’s because they’re family. Because they just fought so hard to protect this prison, their home. Because the idea of them going out there just after all of them being safe makes her heart sink. She just wants a minute. A minute for all of them to be together. 

It’s not special. It’s nothing crazy. She just loves them all, that’s it. Rick and Daryl and now Michonne too. They’re all her’s, her family that she brought into her heart despite any sort of reluctance. She’s equally worried about all of them, getting ready to hit the walkers through the fence. And Maggie and Daddy are still here. It should be fine. It should be fine. Everything is going to be fine, they can take care of themselves. 

Then why can’t Beth breathe? 

She doesn’t look at Daryl on the bike. She doesn’t. She focuses on the truck and it’s passengers, even as the revving engine of the bike gets louder and louder. She wants to look. But she won’t. She can’t. She won’t allow herself to do so until the very last second, until they’re dragging the gate open and then they go through. That’s the only time she’ll let herself look, acknowledge all the fear within her. 

He’s on the bike, feet kicking up the gravel on the curve of the hill, the walkers out of reach but never far. The vest, the bike, the hair, the crossbow. It’s all things that she’s seen before. It’s all things that just make up… Daryl. And Beth doesn’t know why the image of him riding away from the prison fills her with such dread. 

She bounces on her toes to see them go the entire way, until they disappear into the trees. 

She feels like she’s going to explode. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**Beth Greene knows how Daryl Dixon sees her.**

“Beth.” 

Daryl’s voice tears her out of her shock at the amount of people getting off the bus. She feels his heavy hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from the crowd and she doesn’t have time to react until they’re a ways off from the rest. Beth blinks away her surprise, realizing that Daryl is looking down at her with the same look that he’d had when Lori died. 

“We taking them in?” she asks him, a bit breathless. “All of them?” there’s got to be at least 50 people on that bus. 

“Yeah.” Daryl looks as worried as she feels. “Rick thinks it’s a good idea.” 

Beth thinks it’s a horrible idea, but what Rick says goes, so she drops it. But she’s fairly certainly that standing and watching people get off the bus with him isn’t why he pulled her over here. So waits, watching his face as he watches the group. Daddy is already welcoming them in. Beth sees children, adults, even a baby that might be a little bit older than Judith. They look like good people. They look… Soft. Like they haven’t seen the horribleness of the world, not really. 

“Whatcha thinking?” she asks him finally, lowly, when he doesn’t appear to bring himself out of his thoughts. That does it; he rouses himself and looks back down at her. 

“Where’s Judith?” he questions her lowly and Beth blinks. 

“With Carol,” she says automatically. Daryl nods. 

“Listen, you go get her. You hold her tight,” he orders, leaning close to her so that no one can hear them. Beth can't help but shiver at his hot breath on her ear. “Don’t let no one from there touch her, got it?” 

“Got it.” Beth nods. She does get his request. Whoever these people are - good or bad - and whatever it was bringing them here - right or wrong - it’s done. Daryl looks at her a moment longer, eyes searching her face and then he nods and gives her a little push. 

“G’on then.” 

Beth takes Judith from Carol so that the older woman can help get their new people settled. She looks about as wary as Beth feels at all these new faces and bodies in their space, but she's clearly hiding it better. Beth backs away from the group to observe, holding tight to Judith and doesn’t let her go. Not even to Carl. 

When it’s lights out, Beth still has Judith. She suspects she will, for a while now. Everyone will be so busy. The idea doesn’t bother her - she loves the little girl so much. And the idea of anyone else having her fills Beth up with a terror so wild she almost can’t stop it. So she sits in her cell with the little girl, rocking back and forth with her, singing under her breath. 

"My bonnie lies over the ocean, my bonnie lies over the sea. Well, my bonnie lies over the ocean. Yeah, bring back my bonnie to me…” 

She sees Daryl standing at the doorway of her cell, keeping watch, as she drifts off to sleep with Judith in her arms. She’s not sure if it’s for her or the baby. 

Either way, it’s nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i tried super duper hard not to rewrite scenes verbatim from the show (because i read somewhere that people are sick of that) but with that being said if there's ever a moment (made up or a specific scene) that you'd like to see, just let me know! 
> 
> things that i've noticed from my obsessive rewatching of this stupid series - 
> 
> i find a lot of little bethyl references in this season. like beth going to talk to carol about daryl's abandonment? she cares, y'all. also beth wrote on the side of judith's bin because that handwriting was way too nice to be daryl's and the smiley face/stars? that's so beth. always emo about it. 
> 
> and i have no idea if beth was really looking at daryl during that line in the song (the camera focus in on maggie/glenn in the background) BUT IT LOOKS LIKE SHE'S LOOKING RIGHT AT DARYL AND I'LL DIE ON THAT
> 
> you guys all rock, reviews are love, i still stan beth greene okay bye


	3. In A New Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends wow you guys are beyond beyond beyond lovely
> 
> this fic is so much fun and i've been loving it
> 
> this chapter begins to first of a few that cover the time jump we see in the prison. who's to say that's not when beth and daryl fell in love???

**The times when Daryl Dixon sees Beth Greene almost makes all of this worth it.**

“Christ, girl,” he drawls, walking up to her with an almost lazy swagger. “You got any more guns on ya?” 

“A couple.” she flashes a smile at him, having come loaded with two riffles, crossed on her back, and a pistol tucked down both the front and the back of her pants.

“Where’s lil asskicker?” he asks and Beth wants to sigh. Of course. That’s all she is. The babysitter. 

“Carol has her,” she explains. “Resting. She spent all night in D block, getting it ready. They’re both down for a nap.” 

“You helping today?” he asks, looking at the rest of the group assembled. Glenn. Maggie. Tyreese. Sasha. And some of the people from Woodbury, who are shifting around uncertainly, like they don’t know what to make of any of this. 

“Maggie and Daddy said I could,” she tells him, before realizing how childish it sounds. 

“Nah, it’s good.” Daryl scratches the back of his head, almost thoughtfully. “I remember you in the woods is all. You’re capable.” 

“Thanks.” that’s high praise, coming from him. He gives her a little nod and then turns to the group at large. They’re just clearing the yard. Not the buildings yet; the more experienced group is needed for such close quarters. But they can start making a dent in the free and roving walkers in the yard. And that’s going to be good, because they need more space to fit all their new people. 

And Beth is going screaming mad, being left out of all the action. She doesn’t like killing the walkers. She doesn’t like the mess. But she can’t spend one more minute inside being mistaken as Judith’s mother, to see the new women come in and look at her with surprise and pity, like she’s some teenage mom when they don’t know anything at all. They don’t know Lori, they don’t know her story, they don’t know the struggles and hurt that any of them have endured in this stupid prison. 

She needs to vent some steam. And shooting a semi-automatic rifle into the skulls of the undead seems like a good enough solution. So she’ll bring up the rear, stay safe, stay away from the action. Maggie isn’t thrilled with the idea, and she keeps glancing at Beth with a frown while Daryl goes over the plan, his bow swinging from his back. Beth doesn’t care. She just wants some air to breathe again. 

A group of a few boys are nearing her, all of them wide eyed. Beth doesn’t pay them much attention. Maggie had cracked a joke, when they’d first been getting all the survivors into the prison, that the miracle she’d talked about had come true. Now there are guys for Beth to have a crush on, age appropriate ones. But they all look so young to Beth now. Maybe she’s just too old. 

“Hey,” one hisses, trying to get her attention. Beth glances at him, still listening to Daryl, now dividing them up into small groups. These boys will get kicked out, not allowed to partake. They don’t know how to kill walkers yet but Beth gets to because she’s spent months doing so. “Hey!” 

“What?” Beth gives them a dirty look before she notices the awed expression on their faces. They’re not trying to be mean. They’re not trying to be hurtful. They’re looking at Daryl in some form of hero worship and if this wasn’t all so weird already Beth might’ve once laughed. 

“Do you know him?” the kid asks her, like he is a star football player or famous rock star and this time Beth does giggle a little bit, because she can’t handle it. 

“Daryl?” she splutters. Logically, she knows how amazing he is. She herself has sometimes looked at him and thought that they’d all be dead if not for him. But these boys seem as though they’ve found a new superhero. It makes her feel oddly defensive. “Yeah, he…” but there’s no words for what Daryl has done for her. Since the farm. Since that frigid winter, huddling in abandoned houses and barns. Since this prison, since this war, since everything. 

“Whoa.” sufficiently impressed, they don’t pressure her for more. And when Daryl comes around, they all scatter, apparently too fearful to look him in the eye. 

“Hey,” he says gruffly, bumping her shoulder, eyeing the retreating backs of the boys. “They bothering you?” 

“No,” she says, and means it. They weren’t. “They might bother you later though. Ask you for your autograph and all that.” she gives him a brilliant smile, one that he doesn’t return for confusion. Deciding that she likes it better that way, she goes to join her group, letting Maggie fuss over her for a moment before they turn at Daryl’s sharp whistle. 

It’s hard work. It’s gross work. But at least the cold air means that they’re not burning up with the heat and the sun, and it helps keep the stench of the walkers at bay. Beth aims her rifle, makes it secure against her shoulder. Then she takes aim, aided by the scope, and squeezes the trigger, watching the macabre scatter of blood and gore as the walker heads explode all around her. 

It shouldn’t be so satisfying, she thinks grimly. It shouldn’t be so easy to be surrounded by carnage. It should scare her, traumatize her. She shouldn’t be sitting here, drinking from a water bottle, like it’s her noon lunch break on the farm and she’s just mucking out stalls and not out here carrying on a crusade. But they’ve cleared all the way to another fence. Daryl is going to open the doors to a building soon, let the other walkers out in the yard so that they can take out more of them, but right now they’re having a break. 

“Hey, you’re uh, Beth.” the boys from before are around again, all of them eyeing her. Beth wipes blood off her hands on her pants, nodding. “You’re one of the ones who was here. Before.” 

“Yeah,” she says, because how else can she sum up what the last couple months have been? 

“You’re really good at taking out the walkers,” compliments another, blushing. Belle tilts her head, but thinks that it’s a genuine sort of compliment. A fitting one, for their new world. “Never seen a girl kill so many.” 

“Maggie’s better,” she tells them but then remembers Maggie’s with Glenn and Beth is not and that’s probably half the allure. 

“How well you know Daryl?” another boy blurts out and Beth snorts. She can’t resist it. Is that all they care about?

“Think he’d let me use that crossbow?” another one asks with a longing look and that sobers Beth up. Reminds her that they’re not one of her family. Because if they were, then they would know beyond a doubt that no one ever touches Daryl Dixon’s crossbow. You just _don’t._

“No,” she tells them, serious now. “And you better not ask.” 

“Oh.” they seem surprised by the venom in her voice. Beth nods, swinging down off the table and going to join Glenn and Maggie. 

“Hey.” Maggie gives her a concerned look. “You tired? Want to stop? Slow down?” 

“No.” Beth gives them an easy smile. “Just wanted to hang out with you. If that’s okay.” 

“Sure.” Glenn scoots over, makes room. “I was just betting your sister how many walkers Daryl’s going to have to kill to not snap today.” 

“Why’s that?” Beth asks, eyebrows raised. 

“He’ll have a meltdown if all these new people don’t stop breaking formation,” Maggie mutters and Beth giggles. This is where she belongs. These are her people, these are the ones who get it. The ones who understand her. The ones who don’t look at Daryl like he’s god, without knowing his pain and struggles. They look at Beth like she’s just another pretty girl, not one who sticks a knife under the chin of the dead and pulls the trigger and doesn’t flinch with the spray of blood. They look at this whole place like a haven, from one to the next, without ever seeing the ugliness of the real world out there. 

“Y’all ready to go again?” Daryl demands, standing in front of them. His fan club hovers behind him, awed and quiet. 

“Yeah.” Beth gets up first, finishing off her water. “Need help with the doors?” 

“Beth, no, that’s too dangerous,” Maggie insists and Beth wonders when Maggie too, will see that she’s not some little girl anymore. Daryl though, appraises her with a little smile. 

“She can handle it,” he decides and Beth grins and follows him, well aware that she has the eyes of half a dozen boys on her. She’s not sure if it’s for her or for Daryl. She doesn’t care. 

* * *

**Moonlight makes it hard for Beth Greene to see Daryl Dixon, but somehow easier too.**

“Please, Judith,” Beth mutters, close to tears herself. “Please, baby girl, please… Please stop crying. Please stop. You’re not wet, you’re not hungry, you’re not hurt, so why are you crying?”

Beth thinks about why she’d be crying, if she was a helpless infant at the end of the world without a mother. And while she wants to allow Judith this, the reality is that they’re in a concrete prison with echoing stone walls and Beth hasn’t slept in two days because while Judith whimpers when she’s in Beth’s arms, she wails if she’s in anyone else’s, so Beth holds her all the time. She knows it’s something babies do, get clingy to their caretakers, but there’s a tiny part of Beth’s brain that wants to scream at Judith and shake her, tell her that _you’re not mine, you’re not mine, you were never supposed to be mine but you killed your mother and now —_

Now, she needs a break. Take a deep breath. Take a break. 

Beth’s footsteps are quiet as she heads out of her cell and past the others. She can’t drop Judith off with anyone, not even Carol or Rick. Judith only wants her and Beth just wants quiet so she retreats to the only place that she thinks she might get it. 

When’d they’d first arrived, everyone had eagerly claimed cells, glad for the semblance of privacy. Daryl hadn’t picked a cell. He’d decided on the guard tower overlooking the community space. Beth’s first reaction at the time had been a little uncharitable, that of course he was breaking off from the group because that was what he always did, but now she knows the truth. It’s the high ground. And it allows him to see everyone coming into the cell block. 

Not breaking away. _Looking after._

She climbs the stairs, the movement soothing Judith’s cries into little whimpers. That’s what got Beth into this mess in the first place; Judith only slept when Beth was moving, so Beth just kept moving. But now two days in and she hasn’t stopped moving and she hasn’t slept and neither has Judith and she’s so fucking tired that she steps up to the door of the guard tower and sticks her head in, hissing, 

“Daryl.” 

The crossbow comes up before his head does and Beth would laugh if laughter wasn’t a foreign concept anymore because of course Daryl Dixon sleeps with one hand on his crossbow and of course he’d come up shooting. Because of course. 

“Beth?” his voice is hoarse and then he drops the crossbow with a muffled curse when he sees Judith in her arms. “Are you fucking crazy? I could’ve shot you or the baby!” 

“You wouldn’t have.” Beth steps inside the room and shuts the door behind her. Sure, the glass is cracked from where that guard had committed suicide, both otherwise it’s relatively soundproof. So she slumps against the door, Judith in her lap already screwing her little face up and she tells the kid, tiredly, “do your worst.” 

"What?” Daryl asks in confusion but then Judith begins to cry, the same endless cry that it’s been for days and Beth can’t even lift her arms anymore to try and soothe her. “Jesus!” 

“She won’t stop,” Beth tells him, her eyes sliding shut of their own accord. “Dunno what to do. Tried everything. She just keeps screaming. I think she knows.” 

“Knows what?” the weight of the baby is lifted off her lap and Beth thinks blearily, _good luck._

“I ain’t her mama. Her mama’s gone.” 

“She don’t know shit.” the rustling of blankets means Daryl is standing up. Beth wants to warn him that it’s a dangerous game to play, the ‘I’ll bounce you if you stop crying’ game because there’s no stopping it, not once it starts, but she can’t. Because it’s warm in here. And it smells like Daryl. And Beth hasn’t slept, hasn’t stopped moving, in two day whole days. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, as sleep fights to drag her under. “Just… Wouldn’t… Stop.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” something warm and heavy drapes over her and then Beth loses her mighty battle and begins to snore. 

Waking up slowly is a luxury of Beth’s past. Once, she might’ve spent over an hour walking up. Blinking at the hazy light through her window. Stretching, to doze off again. Her limbs, heavy into her mattress. Rolling over, falling back asleep, until finally her body felt like getting up and she’d slide out of bed. 

No. These days Beth wakes up all at once - just eyes flying open, head already on a swivel, making sure that they’re not being attacked or eaten or anything, making sure that Judith is still there, getting her bearings once again. So when she sits up with a gasp, it only takes her a few seconds to catalog everything. She’s in the tower - Daryl’s tower. And she’d been sleeping sitting up against the door, wrapped in a blanket - Daryl’s blanket. And Judith — 

Judith is quiet. Judith is asleep. Judith is asleep on Daryl’s chest, the two of them splayed on the mattress. Beth holds as still as she can, muscles trembling as she waits to see if her movements are going to wake either of them. When it doesn’t, she exhales a long breath, relaxing against the door. She doesn’t care what black magic Daryl has used to to get Judith to sleep. Vaguely, she thinks she should. What if he put whiskey in her bottle or something? But Beth never has the chance to wake up slow, so by god, she’s gonna wake up slower than this. 

The second time Beth wakes up, much slower, it’s to see Daryl still laying on the mattress but awake, bouncing Judith on his stomach while she squeals in happiness. Beth realizes that Daryl is smiling. Actually smiling. Not the halfhearted smile or the smirk or the frown. It’s a smile. The last time Beth saw him smile like this… Well, when Judith was born and then he’d rode off to get her food to save her and he’d held her in his arms and fed her and smiled. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, because judging from the light streaming in, they’d usually all be up by now. Clearly she’s blocking the door and he can’t leave. And she never should’ve brought Judith here in the first place. What was she thinking? It was his night off from guard duty. He’d want to be left alone, not bothered by Beth and the baby. But Beth knows that she’s actually slept, for the first time in a long time. And Judith wants to be held by someone else. That’s the biggest miracle here. 

“Don’t be.” Daryl doesn’t even glance over at her. Doesn’t even blink. “Missed her. Been busy.” 

“How’d you get her to stop crying?” Beth asks, because it’s the most important question. 

“Tough love,” he tells her like it’s obvious and Beth swallows hard because she’s seen the love that Daryl received from his family but then he adds, “told her to quit working you too hard. Told her to give you a break.” 

“And she listened?” Beth demands, because she has no idea how old Judith is (time is just a concept these days) but she thinks roughly several months old based on the seasons changing but either way, there’s no way Daryl just looked at her sternly and told her to knock it off and Judith obeyed. 

“Yeah. Then I gave her this.” he holds up a teething ring and Beth stares him blankly. Judith squeals and snatches the thing from him and slobbers over it. 

“She’s teething.” it’s so obvious. Painfully so. Beth should have known but she’d been so tired and she’s never actually raised an actual baby so how the hell would she have known this? 

Wait. How the hell does Daryl know this? 

“I’ll try to find more,” he tells her, ignoring her flabbergasted look. “Think we can put them in the freezer and turn it on for it since they like it cold.” 

“Did you have a baby? Before?” the question is out of her mouth before she can stop it. She knows the answer is no. But she just has no idea how else he can know all of this. Daryl shoots her a look from between narrowed eyes.

“Nah. Just watched a lot of kids.” 

“Oh.” she can’t imagine him babysitting. 

“People’s swung by,” he admits to her, reluctantly. “See my dad. Then Merle. Bring kids sometimes. I’d watch.”

“Okay.” Beth doesn’t want to push it beyond that. She can’t. Daryl doesn’t share much and he’s even less likely to share if she pokes at him. So Beth watches him with Judith and feels pure relief that she’s not screaming anymore. 

“Go back to sleep,” Daryl orders, after a few moments have passed. 

“I look that bad, huh?” she jokes weakly. 

“Know you haven’t been,” he informs her flatly and Beth thinks of course he does, perceptive as he is. “Can always bring her here, if she needs it.” 

“I can handle her,” Beth tells him stubbornly. It’s basically her only job. She doesn’t want to fail at it. She doesn’t want everyone to see that there’s nothing she can do. 

“Nah. I miss her is all,” he mutters and Beth knows it’s an out. It’s an out, because he runs himself ragged protecting them and hunting for them and building things and hauling stuff from all over the prison and the on top of that, on top of everything, Beth sees him some days at the fence, killing walkers so they don’t haul the whole thing down behind them. 

But she’s tired and Judith loves Daryl like Daryl loves Judith so why the hell not? 

“I’ll move,” she says, shifting away from the door. “She’ll want a bottle soon.” 

“I got it,” he tells her, standing with Judith on his hip. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Thanks.” Beth rolls onto the mattress, knowing she’s probably imposing but it’s a damn sight comfier than the door. And Daryl isn’t protesting so she closes her eyes and wraps herself in blankets that smell like him and Judith. It’s nice. It’s so nice. 

If anyone thinks anything odd when they see Beth coming down for Daryl’s watchtower with sleep-tousled hair and the flushed cheeks of a well earned nap, no one says a word to her or him.

* * *

  
  


**What you see is what you get with Daryl Dixon, and Beth Greene knows it well.**

Alcohol isn’t allowed in the prison. Well, it’s not that it’s not allowed, technically. But her Daddy had been strict that there were other things to bring back - more important things. Medicine. Food. Guns and ammo and arrows and knives. Booze had been pretty low on the list, unless it was being used as a disinfectant. And even then, it was usually gone fairly quickly, with the way that they got injured around here. 

That changes when you get the Woodbury group in the mix. Beth doesn’t like to be around them, not yet. Partially because she doesn’t trust anyone, not anyone beyond their group. But also because they’re too soft. They’re weak. They don’t get the ways of this new world. They had electricity and food, tall walls and garden parties. They think this is like a survivalist weekend or something similar, like it’s all just for fun and will be over soon. 

Beth knows it’s not going to be over soon. 

It’s one of them who had brought it over from their old haven. Now they wanted to break it out, to have something like a party. Daddy had gritted his teeth but things were still uneasy between survivors and newcomers, so it’s allowed. But outside. By the fire. And Beth drifts over to watch. She doesn’t want to drink. No. She just wants to watch, is all. Idle curiosity. 

People get loud when they drink. Beth knows that. She picked Maggie up from the bar once. People are rowdy. Beth just hasn’t ever seen it so close, so personal. Maggie is out there tonight, with Glenn. And Carol. And Daryl. He’s the only one drinking, but the others are trying to form connections. Trying to make an uneasy peace stick, be a little less uneasy. Daryl is being as unsociable as always, but he shares in the whiskey. It might be a start. 

Beth is just about to turn in when the yelling starts. 

It’s just raised voices, at first. Just a few of them together, talking that gets louder and louder. And then all of the sudden it’s yelling, actual yelling, and Beth’s taken a few paces forward automatically before realizing _what the hell is she going to do?_ She’s just a kid, a scrawny one to boot, and she can’t just go around shooting ceilings to break up arguments, no matter how effective it might be. Besides, some of the others are already there. 

Maggie, hands up, trying to deescalate things. Glenn, trying to split them up. Even her father is coming out on his crutches, looking for the source of the noise with a worried frown. Beth wonders what he’s going to do, one legged and old as he is, as the voices get louder and louder. Beth wonders if things are going to go wrong. Going to go badly. 

She starts to shake a little. She reaches for the knife she keeps strapped on her. 

And then there’s Daryl - _holy shit, Daryl_ \- leaping from one of the picnic tables with his fist drawn back, like some weird parody of a superhero, leather vest to replace a cape. And smashes one man’s face with his fist. And he drops and Daryl is standing, taking on the next guy who dives for him. Beth stays where she is, unable to think anything besides…

Holy shit, Daryl Dixon is made to fight. And he knows it. He’s really, really, really good at this, maybe even better than he is with walkers because he can fight more than a couple people at once, a whirl of fists and elbows, until they’re all dropped at his feet and he stands, framed by the bonfire. 

Beth thinks that it’s not the most productive way of ending whatever was brewing. But she’ll be damned if it’s not efficient. 

“Daryl!” Maggie hisses and he glances up at her, shrugging. 

“It’s handled,” he says, like that’s the end of it. And it probably is, because everyone is dispersing, muttering and heading off. Beth watches as they go, the men Daryl hit rising as well and slinking off. Maggie waits until they’re out of earshot before she looks at Daryl, indignant. 

“What the hell was that?” but for some reason, both she and Daryl glance back at Beth, like she's somehow relevant. Then Daryl's eyes snap right back to Maggie. 

“Sometimes people just need a little bar fight, Maggie,” he informs her, like that’s common information, like she’s an idiot for not seeing it sooner. “Blow off some steam.” 

“And you almost knocking them out achieves that?” Maggie demands angrily and he shrugs, flexing his fingers. 

“Does for me.” he seems pretty happy about it. Beth strangely feels like laughing. 

“What if they retaliate?” Maggie points out and he shrugs. 

“Let ‘um. They know how it is now.” then, still flexing his fingers, Daryl walks off into the night. 

“This is why I said no alcohol,” her father mutters and Beth thinks he’s got a point. 

But maybe not. 

* * *

  
  
  


**There are glimpses Beth Greene sees sometimes, of how things might’ve been for her or Daryl Dixon.**

"Keep her glass full of cheap champagne, she will tell of a man with no name,” Beth sings softly, rocking Judith in her arms. "Smoke and mirrors have done her in, she's in love and she won't be again…Oh did she let him go, or did the four winds blow him away? Oh does she even know, she's the girl with the red balloon?” 

Judith has to be rocked to fall asleep. And on account of them not having a rocking chair, it’s up to Beth to do it. So she looks ridiculous, swaying and weaving, side to side, Judith in her arms. Beth watches her face, squinting to see if she’s actually sleeping or just doing that funny little thing she does where she pretends to sleep, only to wake up wailing whenever Beth tries to actually put her down. She hums, finishing out the song. "So lovely… So lonely… Floating away…” 

“She’s a beautiful little girl,” whispers a woman from Woodbury next to her and Beth smiles but doesn’t look up. Everyone likes Judith. Is drawn to her, this one spot of bright light in the otherwise endless gloom of this new world. Beth nods, but keeps humming, because the second she stops, Judith is going to start wailing and Beth wants to get back to her book while she can. It’s one of the trashy romance ones, but dammit, they’d just been about to profess their love and Beth wants to see if they do or not. 

“Hey.” a soft voice from over her shoulder. Beth doesn’t jump; she’s used to this. In fact, she’s been expecting it. She turns so that Daryl can see Judith, keeping the cadence of her rocking but not walking, humming slightly. His face is soft as he looks down at the little girl, one rough finger coming out to gently trace the plump line of Judith’s cheek. “How’s she?” 

“Great,” Beth replies softly. “Ate more tonight than ever.” 

“Getting big?” Daryl mutters, still enamored with the little girl. Beth loves how he loves her. 

“And heavy,” Beth adds with a smile and he glances up at her with a tiny smile of his own. 

“What was it tonight?” he asks, his standard question. Beth is giving Judith a robust musical education. The songs of the old world may be gone now but they still exist in Beth's head and she's determined Judith will know them too. 

“Girl with the Red Balloon,” she tells him and he pulls a face. 

“Nah, we gotta get some Led Zeppelin to you, lil girl,” he whispers and Beth makes a noise, half a snort and half a huff. She doesn’t know that music, never has, and Daryl won’t sing it for her so she sticks with her music choices for lullabies, no matter what Daryl wants. 

He didn’t take her by surprise because Daryl always stops by on his way to guard duty to see Judith before Beth puts her down for the night. Guard duty isn’t so frequent now that their numbers have been bolstered by the people from Woodbury but Daryl always takes more shifts than the others. And he likes to check in on the baby before she’s asleep, so Beth always plants herself where he’ll be able to find them. 

“She’s good,” Beth promises him, when he looks up at her with the unspoken question in his eyes. She knows how much he adores the baby. Beth loves her too. 

“Alright.” he apparently decides that’s all that he needs and he dips forward, brushing his lips over Judith’s forehead before he’s gone off into the night with a swirl of that poncho. Beth watches him go with a little smile and then turns back, swaying, to the woman who’d been talking to her before. She doesn’t say anything but she has a little frown, like she’s got a problem with something but doesn’t say anything. Beth keeps rocking with a shrug. 

“Uh, Beth, right?” comes a hesitant voice from the doorway of her cell and Beth looks up with a flare of annoyance to see it’s the woman from before. She’s right in the thick of her novel and there’s only a little bit of light left. Judith slumbers next to her in her crib, peaceful and happy. 

“Yeah.” trying to be polite, Beth sets aside her book and sits up. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m Mindy. I’m from Woodbury,” she explains and Beth doesn’t tell her that she knows that, of course she knows that. She knows who the new people are because while they’re her people now, they’re not her family. Her family, she'd know anywhere, still sees their faces emblazoned on the back of her eyelids at night before bed and this woman’s face is unfamiliar. But rather than tell her any of that, Beth simply says, 

“Okay.” 

“I wanted to check in on you,” the woman adds, once Beth doesn’t fill the silence. Once, she might’ve. With bubbly, happy chatter because she hated the sound of silence. But Beth doesn’t have that in her anymore and she just blinks until the woman clarifies with a little smile, “I was a social worker. You know, before this whole mess."

“Oh,” Beth says, because what else is there to say? They were all something, before this, and it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is the now. 

“I wanted to know if you wanted someone to talk to,” she offers and that makes Beth blink in confusion. Sure, no one’s mental health is great. They’re in an apocalypse. But if she’s going around and offering counseling to people, Beth shouldn’t be the first person to start with. She’s got suggestions for that, maybe beginning with Rick. “I know it can’t be easy.” 

“What can’t?” Beth asks, thinking of killing walkers or starving to death or curling up in the cold outdoors of the winter but then Mindy gives her a sad smile and gestures to the crib, where Judith’s little chest rises and falls steadily and Beth can’t get the words out to explain that Judith isn’t her’s, because the lady is still talking. 

“I saw a lot of girls like you, before this. Same situations. And I want you to know that just because there aren’t laws anymore doesn’t mean that there aren’t people that don’t care,” she tells her, eyes over-bright, reaching down to give Beth’s hand a squeeze like she needs comfort. Beth is just confused. She’s not sure what the woman is talking about - surely there aren’t any rules about taking in an orphan? “Age of consent might not be a thing anymore but common decency should be. Forcing a girl, having a baby with her, it’s just… It’s not right. And if you need someone, if you need help getting away from him, I want to be here for you.” 

Beth feels like an idiot, like her brain is working three times harder to keep up than it should. But eventually, separate words and phrases click into place. _Age of consent. Force. Baby. Getting away from him._ And then Beth sees what this woman must see, what has brought her to Beth’s room and made her sit down on the bed and offer a young girl a lifeline because…

Beth, with the baby always on her hip and not a single line on her face. Daryl, older and meaner and grouchier than any one person has the right to be. Beth, feeding the baby while Daryl gets a plate of hot food for both of them. Daryl, always the first to make a bottle and bring it to Beth whenever Judith is fussing. Beth pacing the corridors late at night, trying to rock Judith back to sleep. Daryl, holding and cooing at the baby whenever he has a spare moment. Beth, always finding him so that he can see Judith before he goes, because Beth knows that he needs to see her before he can feel at peace. Daryl, stepping up to be Judith’s dad whenever Rick’s mind drifts off into that dark place that it’s so hard for him to come back from.

Oh. 

They look like her parents. 

Beth looks like a young teenage girl with a baby and Daryl looks like an older man who probably forced her into it and that’s what everyone sees when they look at them. And that makes Beth furious. 

“She ain’t mine,” she says, trying to be calm but mostly feeling anger. She doesn’t like that anyone can think of Daryl like this, not when he is the best guy that Beth knows. “She — her mama died. Here. Giving birth to her. And Daryl ain’t the daddy. He just protects us. All of us.” and Daryl doesn’t belong to her either, in any sense of the word. 

“Oh.” the woman looks surprised and abashed but does nothing to quell Beth’s rising temper. These people don’t know Lori. They don’t know anything. They don’t know about how Maggie and Carl came up from the depths of hell to give them all Judith, so that Daryl could hold her and give her a name that made it seem like she was going to be able to beat this world. They don’t know the pain. The sacrifice. The horrors. They don’t know why Daryl loves that little girl so much, why Beth is willing to give up anything for her. They don’t know. They don’t know anything at all. 

“Yeah,” Beth says, harder and harsher than it should be. Because the woman has no right to judge them, not a single one. 

“I didn’t mean to… I misunderstood… I thought that…” the woman is stammering but Beth is ignoring her now, checking in on Judith. As the woman rises and backs out of the cell, Beth wishes that the thing still had bars on it so that she could slam them in her face. And when she’s gone, Beth takes a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Trembling hands pick up her book again, but the appeal is lost. 

In the morning, when it comes time for breakfast with everyone, Beth marches in with Judith in her arms. She goes straight off to make a bottle for her then goes to sit beside Daryl, plunking Judith in his arms so that she can pull her instant oatmeal towards her and eat it while glowering at Mindy. To Daryl’s credit, if he finds any of this odd he doesn’t say a word and simply feeds Judith her bottle. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**The best days are when Daryl Dixon gets to see Beth Greene free of the prison walls.**

“Beth!” Maggie’s voice cuts across the courtyard in the crisp winter air and Beth glances up, sighing to see Maggie marching across towards her. 

“Ah, hell,” Beth mutters and hears an amused snort from behind her. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maggie demands, with Glenn, Carl, and Hershel trailing her. 

“Going on a supply run,” Beth says brightly, like that’s obvious. “Daryl says there’s a consignment store that he doesn’t think has been turned over yet. Get winter clothes for the kids. Judith especially. She’s getting big.” 

“Absolutely not,” Maggie says firmly, like she’s the end all, be all of this. “It’s way too dangerous out there. No. Stay here, where it’s safe. Doesn’t Judith need you?” 

“No.” Beth’s temper, always simmering beneath the surface these days, rises instantly. “Maggie, I ain’t been outside in two weeks, not since Judith got that cough. I’m going insane, locked inside there.” and Beth is going crazy. She has gotten used to the wilderness during their winter on the run and the walls of the prison are stifling her. She’s nothing but an over glorified babysitter in there, surrounded by kids and babies, only good for making bottles and changing diapers. 

“Daddy!” Maggie turns to their father for reinforcement but he only gives a little shrug. He’s seen the caginess in Beth’s eyes. This had been half his idea anyways. 

“Who’s gonna go, if not me?” Beth demands, playing her last card. “You know what size Judith wears in diapers, huh? Or what size Molly’s feet are? You know how many coats we need, so the kids can stay warm this winter? No. I’m the only one who knows this stuff, knows what formula makes Judith gassy and what size jeans we need.” 

It’s not technically true. Carol would know all this, but she’s got Judith at the moment and it’s her off-shift. And Daryl knows, because Beth always tells him what she needs. But when Beth glances back at him to see if he’ll sell her out or back her up, he’s just lounging on the handlebars of his bike, bored, like they’re bickering about if they’re getting skin milk or 2%. Bolstered, she turns back to the group. 

“Maggie, Rick needs everyone to help build the pig enclosure,” Glenn says softly, touching Maggie’s arm and Beth is reminded that she likes Glenn, likes that he’s with her sister, especially when he backs her up at times like this. “That blockade up at the edge of town means the trucks can't get in. Beth can take care of herself. And she’s with Daryl.” 

Beth knows the unsaid words there. They all think that she’s weak and small and a child, but Daryl isn’t. Daryl is big and strong and fast and he’ll keep her useless self safe, no matter that she can kill walkers same as the rest of them. Beth won’t protest, will take any insult she needs to, if that just means that she can leave this place for two minutes, can remember the sky and the wind and everything else out there. She needs some freedom. Just a little bit.

“Fine.” Maggie quits waffling and reaches down to unbuckle the holster from her thigh, thrusting it at Beth. “You be safe okay? Just the clothes. Nothing else. Scope out the place. We can do a bigger run if we need to and clear the jam. Be _safe.”_

“I will.” Beth puts the hostler on, trying not to be giddy. She’s already got three knives on her, plus a gun, not to mention the veritable artillery on Daryl. They’re just going for one little supply run. Everyone does it. She’ll be fine. _She’s with Daryl._ Maggie gives her a brief hug and then her Daddy gives her a kiss on the forehead. Glenn follows Maggie while Carl goes to the gate and Beth turns to Daryl, grinning. 

“Gonna be cold,” he says, appraising her.

“I know.” Beth will be cold for a month if it means a single day where no one throws up on her or she doesn’t have to pace the catwalk a hundred times, trying to settle a gassy baby. 

“Nah, it’s colder on my bike,” he says and then stands up. Beth’s heart starts to sink. She’s always wanted to ride on Daryl’s bike. She’d wanted to feel the air on her face. But maybe he doesn’t want to take her at all. Of course he doesn’t, because she’s just little Beth Greene and she’s useless. She can’t have his back. And if he doesn’t — “Here.”

Beth blinks, realizing that he’s offering her his poncho. Automatically, she raises her hand to take it even though she’s never seen anyone ever wear it but him. She slides it on, realizing just how warm it’ll be. And it smells like him, a little bit sweaty, like smoke and leather and the outdoors and Beth likes it. She smiles, doing a little spin so that he can see she can still wear all of her weapons, that they’re still easily reachable. 

“Thank you, I like it,” she tells him, feeling oddly shy now.

“Don’t get blood on it,” he orders her and she gives a lopsided smile as he sits down and starts the engine. Beth hefts the bag she’ll use for the clothing onto her back and then swings her leg over the bike, sitting down. Instantly, she thinks that she regrets her decision. This isn’t anything like a car. It’s so open and exposed, how the hell are they not going to get yanked right off this stupid thing and not get bit? But Carl is opening the gate and Daryl lifts his feet off the ground and drives forward and Beth can only thread her fingers through his jacket and hold the hell on, as they finally leave the prison behind. 

This. This is exactly what Beth needed. To feel free again, to feel the cold sting on the air on her nose and cheeks, even if she can only peer over Daryl’s shoulder for a few moments before ducking back behind his solid mass, protected from the winds there. The sun. The sky. The trees and the space, everything that was here before and if Beth just closes her eyes a little bit, she can pretend this is all normal. 

It’s not normal though. Not in any way. Because even if things were like they were before, Beth never would’ve done this. She never would’ve been on the back of a motorcycle. Her mama and Daddy would’ve killed her, had she been. Beth never would’ve known a man like Daryl Dixon, before. And the idea of climbing on the back of his bike and pressing her nose against soft leather, that would’ve sent her running to the hills. 

Beth enjoys it though. Can see why Daryl must like it. More freedom. More air. Everything just feels… Alive. And then almost too soon, they’re slowing up so that Daryl can navigate the bike between the gaps in the crashed out cars and she sees the other reason why the bike is so handy because they never could have managed it with a car and then they’re pulling into a small town. Beth realizes that it looks like the one she grew up in did - Main Street, USA.

It should hurt more, she thinks, as Daryl pulls the bike up to the block of stores. It should hurt to see the faded and peeling paint, the doors off their hinges, blowing in the wind, the cracked windows in the building half burned down. But Beth hardly sees any of that anymore; her eyes are peeled for any movement other than the rustling on the leaves on the trees and the debris slowly drifting down the street. She gets off the bike and stumbles, Daryl’s hand shooting out to catch her elbow and steady her. 

“Whoa.” it reminds her of when she’d gotten off a boat once and the ground had felt like it kept rocking under her feet. 

“You good?” Daryl asks and Beth nods, pushing her hair back before turning to give him a bright smile. 

“I liked it,” she attempts to reassure him. "I really liked it.” 

“Good,” he snorts, like he’s amused that she thinks her opinion matters to him when it very clearly doesn’t. Beth doesn’t care. She straightens up and looks around. No walkers descending on them yet, but that’s bound to change so she follows Daryl up the little porch to the old store. Daryl covers the door while Beth peers in through a broken window. She counts four walkers inside, milling about aimlessly. 

“Hey,” she says softly, to get Daryl’s attention and they switch so that he can get a look and come up with a plan. He observes for a moment then looks at her. 

“I got left, you got right?” 

“Yeah,” she answers and he almost smiles, but then he’s pushing through the door and Beth is behind him, covering his back and one walker has a bolt in the eye and the other a heartbeat later and Beth throws one knife at the walker to see it go down with it between the eyes and she hacks at the other until she gets it through the temple. She looks up, panting slightly, to realize Daryl is staring at her with a look that almost looks like admiration. 

“Throwing them now?” he asks, retrieving the knife for her and wiping it clean on his pants. Beth sighs, hoping that there will be an adult section too. His clothes are always so hard to get clean. 

“Carol’s teaching us. Easier than getting up close,” she says, taking the knife back. “Clear?” 

“Yeah,” he grunts, but the crossbow is still up. Always up. Beth takes his words at face value and goes to start getting clothes. She starts with Judith’s sizes first. She likes all the other kids plenty. But she loves Judith. And she’s glad that most of the clothes seem to be in relatively good condition, just a little dusty. That’s fine. She can work with that. She’s just moving on to the toddler section when she speaks. 

“Hey, Daryl?” 

"What?” he’d whipped around at the sound of her voice, crossbow up but now he’s lowering it with a glare, seeing that there’s no danger. 

“You ever think that maybe we can kill all the walkers? The ones outside the prison too?” it’s a thought that’s been going through Beth’s head a lot lately. Clearing out the prison had felt good. Like they were making a difference. And if they can keep killing walkers, then maybe they won’t have to be so scared of leaving all the time. And things can get better. 

“Nah.” his answer surprises her, but the logic that comes next shocks her, given that it's from him. “What, 6 billion people in the world? How many you think turned, how many you think are like us? Odds ain’t great. Too many to kill.” 

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t just have to be us,” she reminds him, holding up a shirt that says ‘Mommy’s Little Angel’. She crumples it up and tosses it aside. She never wants to think of kids as angels ever again. “Other people, fighting. And before, they said they bombed cities like Atlanta. Gotta make a dent.” 

“It ain’t ever going back to normal,” he reminds her, gruffly and Beth thinks of everything she’ll never get to have. A graduation. A prom. A wedding. A baby. A retirement party. Holidays, surrounded by family. It’s all gone. It’ll never come back. 

“Just be nice to stop being scared, is all,” she says softly, bundling hats and mittens into her bag. When he doesn’t say anything back, Beth knows it’s best to drop it. He waits to speak again until she’s got the entire bag full of clothes. 

“Done?” 

“Yupp.” Beth is proud of their haul. Judith will have enough warm clothes to get her through the winter and there’s plenty of stuff there to keep the other kids cozy as well. “We want to do the adult side?” 

“Nah.” he goes to the door, looking left and right. “Had good luck. We can come back later with others, clean it out. Kids first though.” 

“Alright,” Beth agrees easily enough, following him out. 

“Do the gas station,” he mutters, as they make their way back down the street. “See if there’s any food left.” 

“Okay,” Beth hums, even though she doesn’t think that there will be. They’ve already been lucky. A stash would be too much. But she drops the bag by the bike so that she’s not weighed down and follows him towards the little convenience store. One wall is blown out, from a car crashing into the side of it. Beth peers inside and sees a walker crushed between the seat and the airbag, scrabbling for purchase. She climbs the wall after Daryl, and the noise of the crumbling concrete beneath their feet gets the attention of the two walkers. Daryl puts one down before Beth can, then the other before she has a chance to even heft her knife. 

“Clear,” he mutters, in a smug sort of way and Beth rolls her eyes at him, before going to scope out what’s left. This place is more impacted than the clothing store, but that makes sense to Beth. Food and gas over clothes. It’s a luxury for them to care more about clothes now. But even if there isn’t a lot of food left, Beth sees a few games and activity books. She picks them up with a smile, thinking that it’ll be nice for the kids to have something to do. 

She’s brushing aside the trash on the floor in hopes of finding pens or colored pencils maybe when she spots it. For a second she freezes, hardly believing her fortune before slowly dropping to the floor. Sudden movement will alarm Daryl, make him worry, and Beth doesn’t want to draw his attention. Not yet anyways. She picks up the little pack, marveling at them. Cigarettes. Real cigarettes. The kind that Daryl likes to smoke. 

Oh, he is gonna be _thrilled._

“Got anything?” she asks him, tucking the cigarettes behind her back and turning for him. 

“Nah.” he looks disappointed, holding up an orange box. “Just a thing of stupid candy, of—“ 

“Runts?” Beth’s jaw drops. “Those were my favorite!” 

“Yeah?” he looks at them then at her with some disbelief. 

“Wanna trade?” she offers and his eyes narrow, having realized the oddness of her stance. 

“Girl, what’s behind your back?” he demands and Beth grins. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” she doesn’t care about innuendo. Daryl doesn’t either apparently because after a second he grunts and tosses her the candy, so she tosses him the cigarettes. 

“Holy shit,” she hears him mutter worshipfully but Beth is already tearing open the box of candy and spilling them into her palm, swallowing a handful. They’re a little stale and chalky, but it’s actual sugar and Beth wants to moan at the taste in her mouth. She’s missed junk food. She’s missed it so much. 

When she looks up, Daryl has a cigarette lit between his lips and his eyes almost closed, looking happier than Beth has ever seen him. She watches him for a moment, a little smile on her face. It’s so nice to see him happy. And it’s such a nice day, especially now that they have this to end it with. Then she glances around the otherwise empty gas station and hits Daryl on the way by, right in his shoulder. 

“Coming?” she asks him sweetly and he follows, exhaling a billowing white cloud of smoke. Outside, Beth lets him finish the cigarette by the bike, pretending to be repacking the bag until he throws the butt down and grinds it out with his heel. 

“Coming?” he asks her, eyebrow raised and Beth heaves the bag onto her back, then gestures for him to get the bike going. He sits and turns it on with a rumble and Beth clambers on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her chest against him. 

Yeah. It was a really, really good day.

“Beth! Beth!” Maggie comes running when they get back into the yard and when Beth stumbles getting off the bike, catches her in a clumsy hug. “Are you okay?” 

“Just fine.” Beth rights herself, off balance from the heaviness of the backpack. Maggie pushes her hair back, searching her face, but Beth doesn’t have a scratch on her. 

“How was it?” Rick asks them, coming out to greet them with Glenn and Carol. Beth grins, shoving the bag at Carol. 

“Judith’s clothes are at the bottom,” she explains, “and the rest can go to any of the other kids. Found some books too, so they can keep busy.” 

“Wasn’t too bad then?” she hears Rick ask Daryl, as Carol opens the bag and pulls out the clothes, grinning. 

“Nah, would be worth a trip back,” Daryl says. “Might be a hardware or something that’s still intact.” 

“Went well?” Rick says quietly and Beth tenses, waiting to hear Daryl’s judgement. To her surprise, he only snorts and then she smells cigarette smoke. 

“I’ll take Beth again. Girl found me fucking smokes.” 

“Congrats,” Rick laughs and Beth grins, peeling off the poncho so that she can offer it back to him. And not a single drop of blood on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay does anyone remember daryl saying he'll take the perch when they clear the prison and that he won't take a cell? not sure if he was referring to the guard tower but that's where i'm putting him damnit
> 
> also the song beth sings is girl with the red balloon by the civil wars! 
> 
> reviews mean everything to a writer, even if it's just a note telling me which moment was your favorite or a line that stands out. i need more humans to scream with about bethyl
> 
> thank you loves!!!!


	4. A Sense Of Deepening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas to those of you who celebrate it!! i wanted to post a day early for a little christmas surprise :) 
> 
> thank you again so much for the love and support with this fic. 
> 
> we're still between seasons 3 and 4, the prison interlude!

**The way others see Daryl Dixon makes Beth Greene realize just who he is.**

“So can you introduce us?” asks Michael, eagerly. Beth rolls her eyes, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” demands Ricardo, with an affronted look. 

“It’s weird is why,” she tells them, stretching up on her toes to get a book down from the highest shelf, smiling when she sees what it is. A parenting book. Well, she’s not even an adult yet with a baby. It can’t hurt. “Asking me to introduce you guys. This ain’t Pride and Prejudice.” 

“What’s that?” Blake blinks at her, confused and Beth sighs, stepping down off the little stool and staring at the cluster of Woodbury boys around her. They range from maybe six (Blake says he’s just little for his age but no way Beth believes he’s actually nine) to probably about fourteen, if Michael’s cracking voice is to be anything to judge by. There’s about a half dozen of them. 

And they all look at her with big eyes. 

“It’s a big book about two people who fall in love in regency England,” Beth tells him and Blake makes a face in disgust at that. “And the point I’m tryna make is that none of you need me to go say hi to Daryl Dixon. Y’all can go yourself.” 

“But he’s scary,” mutters one in the back and then another corrects him in an awed tone, 

“No, he’s awesome.” 

“Guys.” Beth agrees that Daryl is awesome. She does. But she’s not in the mood to introduce them to their hero, because first things first, she has chores to do. It’s laundry day and her night with Judith. And second things second, she knows it’ll piss Daryl off something fierce to have her bring him a bunch of gaping kids to look at him and she doesn’t want to do that. So she infuses as much patience into her voice as possible and explains, “Daryl is awesome, Marcus. You guys can tell him that, if you want. But you don’t need my help to do it.” 

“But he talks to you,” insists Michael, not letting this die. Beth, having started walking down the hall, nearly trips as she snorts. Daryl doesn’t talk to anyone, besides Rick. And Carol. And Michonne. And her, but only when she has Judith. Or needs something for Judith. Or he wants to know where Judith is. 

“He doesn’t like me that much,” Beth tells them and it’s true. Daryl is simply Daryl. It’s not like he’s ever confided in her. Well, besides that time after he’d had to kill his brother. But that was less actively seeking her out and more of her just being there, for him to lose it to. It should have been Carol, likely, but he would’ve done the same to Maggie or Daddy or anyone. 

“But you were here. Before.” Ricardo’s words aren’t meant to hurt her. She knows that. But it still feels like a physical blow to the stomach. Of course these boys worship Daryl. They think he’s cool, because he’s got a motorcycle and a leather vest and he brings back the food. Not because he can take down a dozen walkers single handedly. Or because he is the only person who can lead them to safety, time and time again. They think he’s cool because he’s a badass. Because they’re all dumb little boys. 

“No.” her voice is more forceful than ever. “No. And do not ask me again. Actually, don’t bother him, y’all hear me?” 

“Yes,” Michael says, after a long, sullen silence and slowly they all chorus the same thing. Beth waits until they’ve all seen the steely look in her eyes before she turns back towards their cellblock. 

She’s not sure why they all come to her. Maybe it’s because she’s young, like them. Maybe they’ve seen Daryl tilt his head over hers before, muttering to her. But it’s not like that. It’s never been like that. What binds them together has always been Judith. And survival. Nothing more than that. If they want to talk about Daryl, they’d be better off with Carl. He’s closer - to Daryl, to these kids' age. But maybe they see the same thing Beth does, the hardness in Carl that will never soften. Because these kids have known safety before, take it for granted. And Carl knows there is none and never will be.

“Hey.” a toe nudges her foot about an hour later and Beth looks up from her reading to see a supremely uncomfortable Daryl Dixon looking down at her from her cell door. 

“I don’t have Judith,” she tells him. Rick had decided to keep her for the night, so there shouldn't be a reason for him to seek her out if she doesn’t have Judith and he doesn’t have guard duty. 

“Yeah, I know.” he scratches his chin, like he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands. “Talked to Rick. She’s good.” 

“Okay.” Beth sets aside her book, wondering what this is about then. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he says, like a petulant teenager who’s been asked why they’re out after curfew. “I…” words fail him then and Beth tilts her head, worried now. Is it Maggie? Daddy? “Can we, uh, go for a walk?” 

You could’ve slapped Beth upside the head, crowned her the Prom Queen of Madagascar, and put her in the Queen of England’s wedding dress, and that still would have been less shocking than Daryl Dixon, he of the scowl and the solitude, asking her for a walk for no apparent reason. When she realizes that she’s staring at him in blank shock, she schools her face into a politely neutral expression and says in as calm as tone as possible, 

“Sure. I’d love to take a walk with you.” 

It appears that Daryl would have found it easier to leash a piglet to a grasshopper from the tense hunch of his shoulders, but Beth tries not to take that as a personal affront. She’s never seen Daryl take a leisurely stroll with anyone before, least of all her. Someone who is useless in the grand scheme of things, who isn’t a leader of this place. But she grabs her jacket and swings her legs off the bunk and follows him out into the cold of the night. 

He doesn’t say a word as they begin the trek towards the outer dog run. They’re making repairs to the fences, keeping the walkers at bay. Beth has hope again, though she doesn’t say a word about it. She feels like that will jinx it somehow, so she keeps it close, where it only hurts herself if it fails. She wonders if Daryl has that hope too, as they fix things. She wonders if she can ask him. She knows better than to try. 

“The kids,” Daryl grunts, finally. Beth keeps her composure, keeps walking, balling her hands into fists in the pockets of her jacket so that they’ll stay warm. “The… Boys.” 

“The Daryl Dixon fan club?” Beth takes some pity on him. Even if she doesn’t know Daryl Dixon, she _knows_ Daryl Dixon. This has got to be harder on him than anything and she’s seen him take his licks before. Talking to her means this has got to be eating him up inside something fierce, because the most he’s ever talked about his feelings before had been less a casual conversation and more a barely controlled breakdown. Beth likes Daryl, but she isn’t in the mood for the Dixon version of a sharing circle. 

“Yeah.” he squirms with discomfort. “I ain’t… They…” 

“I told them not to bother you,” she says, taking over the talking. He relinquishes control with a sigh of relief. “I told them that you’re not that kind of guy.” 

“Nah, I ain’t.” he scuffs the dirt of the dog run and Beth bites back a smile. This is the Daryl she knows. This is the Daryl the boys don’t see, the man so ill at ease with the idea of any admiration or praise that it drives him up and out of bed to find her and take her for a walk in the most un-Daryl-like fashion he’s ever displayed. 

“They don’t get it, I think.” Beth looks up at the stars. “They got behind the gates early, never really had to fight stuff out. Never saw it get bad, you know? So to them, you’re some sort of hero. Like in their old cartoons or their comics or their movies. You got the bike, the vest, the bow, the long hair and the tattoos. Looking kinda badass and they think that you’re pretty damn cool.”

Beth gets two or three steps before she realizes that Daryl has stopped and she’s passed him. She turns, looking back, only to see the expression on his face. She takes two long strides to get back to him, reaching for him before stopping herself because she’s no idiot and the worst thing that she can do is touch him if he doesn’t want to be touched. So her hands open and close on nothing at all as she tries to work out what exactly the look is on his face. 

“What’d you say?” he squints at her and Beth wishes there was more moonlight that she could see him, really see him. 

“That you’re kinda badass?” she keeps her tone light. That seems safest, now. “Well, you are, Daryl Dixon.” 

“Why they think that?” he demands of her. “Huh?” he sounds angry. Angry and hurt. Beth wonders if he assumes they’re mocking him. 

“Because of the way you look,” she says simply, “and the fact that they know that they can sleep at night because of you. They eat because of you. The world out there?” Beth points the forest beyond the fence. “It’s shit. They know that. They’re never going to get to see another movie or watch TV. So you’re the closest thing they have to a hero.” 

“I ain’t a damn hero,” he says hotly and Beth wonders if he brought her out here so he can yell without anyone hearing. Beth of old might have once flinched or cowered away. But the Beth she is today holds her ground and stares up at the man that she knows is just scared. 

“Yes you are, Daryl.” 

“I ain’t!” he yells, looming over her. “I ain’t a fucking hero, I ain’t nobody's knight in shinning armor! I can’t stop that world out there. I can’t. They better fucking know that. I ain’t saving nobody. I can’t save everybody.”

“I know that,” she says softly. Raising her voice right back won’t end well. So she keeps it level. “I know that, Daryl. They don’t though. They’re just young kids. They’re just kids. They just think you’re tough, is all. They respect that.” 

“I ain’t though,” he tells her and Beth knows why he can’t see himself like this but she has to try. “I didn’t get no fucking medals for this before. Fuck, I got citations and violations and fines. I was the scum of fucking society. A poacher. Trespasser. A fucking no good redneck. I ain’t a hero! I ain’t some guy with a fucking cape!” 

_No, you’re a guy with a poncho,_ Beth thinks but doesn’t dare say. She tries a different road instead. “I think—“ 

“I ain’t like this because I’m some badass!” Daryl looks more and more crazed. “I was made like this! I was fucking made from the fucking beginning. A fucking junkyard dog is what I am. I ain’t trying to be anyone special, I ain’t trying to be a fucking role model. Cause you know why I’m good at this shit Beth? You know why I’m so fucking good at this? Cause I had it fucking beat into me! I had to be strong, I had to survive, since I was a fucking kid! This ain’t new to me, none of it!” 

“I know,” she cries, because she does. She remembers what he said about Merle, he remembers what he said about his father. She’ll never ever, as long as she lives, forget those scars on his back. “I tried to tell them Daryl, I said you wouldn’t like this. But you’re a good fucking person Daryl and you know it. You know it! And it don’t matter how you were made. It matters what you do.” 

“And what do I do, huh?” he asks her, spits it out practically, but it’s still there. It’s still a question. And Beth has to answer it. 

“Keep us safe. Bring us food. You know you do that,” she insists. “And these kids, they don’t know. They don’t know anything. They just see you, think that you’re cool, and they cling to any sense of normalcy. You deserve it Daryl. You’re not some bad guy. You’re a good man. You’re doing good things.” 

“I…” his words cut off when Beth throws caution to the wind and lunges forward, wrapping her arms around him before she can think better of it. Hopefully he realizes she’s hugging him, not trying to attack him. For a second, she thinks she’ll get a blade somewhere painful but then two arms settle over her shoulders and he’s not quite hugging her back. But he’s accepting it. And that’s some improvement so Beth takes it. 

“You don’t have to be a hero for nobody,” she promises him, slightly muffled by her pressing her face into his chest. “You don’t have to accept it Daryl. You don’t have to save everyone. And I’ll tell those kids to leave you alone. But just… Just… You’re a good guy. And I know that your past…” Beth doesn’t want to touch on that, not really. But she does, just a little. “Your past made you like this, Daryl, I get that. But you make yourself like this now. And that’s all you. What those kids see? You did that.” 

“I don’t wanna be no hero,” he says, quieter now and Beth pulls away to give him a watery smile. 

“Don’t think you have much choice in the matter now.” 

Daryl has no retort for her. Beth stands in silence, thinking about how uncomfortable she is out here, nose and ears freezing, the tips of her fingers numb. She waits for something; what, she doesn’t know. For Daryl to figure out his feelings, though that’s waiting for a ship that’s never coming in. Or for them to just freeze solid, which is a lot more likely. Then Daryl starts walking again and Beth trails after him, boots digging into the dirt all the way back up to the prison and then to her cell in silence. But when Beth bows her head and intends to say her goodnights, Daryl blocks her path with one arm. 

“Beth, I…” he trails off when she looks up at him and chews his lips like that will allow him to spit the words out. “I… Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Beth says instantly and he hovers, teeters on the edge of saying more and then he doesn’t, dropping his arms and fleeing. Beth watches him stalk away in the gloom and wonders to herself when he’s going to believe that everyone sees him as a hero because he’s worthy of it. 

Beth thinks it’ll take a long fucking time. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Beth Greene wonders if Daryl Dixon ever thinks about what it might’ve been like to see her before this.**

“Beth! Beth!” Carl comes sprinting into the library where Beth is looking for more books. Soon, she’ll run out of new material. But not today. 

“What?” she nearly totters off the ladder she’s using. For a second all she can think about is walkers, Judith is hurt, someone else is dead, everything awful is happening again and she can’t stop it. Then she sees the pure delight on Carl’s face, the kind that makes him look like a kid again, and she finds she can breathe. 

“Michonne and Daryl are back,” he tells her and Beth opens her mouth to thank him for the update, but she’s not close to Michonne like he is and Daryl… Well, that’s a pile of knots to untangle at another time. She’s about to ask him why he's telling her this but then he cuts her off. “And you’re never going to believe what they found.” 

Beth guesses all the way down to the yard. First, it’d been food. Snacks. Candies. The kind of stuff that’s rare, but not too rare. Carl shakes his head, beaming, so she switches to books, comics, CDs, the kind of stuff that they all like when it’s brought back. When that’s still a no, she guesses clothes, or musical instruments. Still nothing. She’s about given up when she looks out into the yard and gasps. Honest to goodness _gasps._

Daryl’s bike is parked halfway up the drive. Michonne is behind him - on a horse. An actual, real, living and breathing horse. With a saddle and everything. Beth is in the yard before she can stop herself, a bit misty-eyed. She hasn’t ridden a horse since before they had to flee the farm and she misses them. She even misses Nervous Nellie. But this horse looks a little skittish too and so Beth slows up, putting her hands out. 

She hasn’t forgotten how to approach a nervous horse and she hasn’t forgotten how to ride one either. She remembers all of it in the blink of an eye, when Michonne hops down and pats the saddle and Beth heaves herself up and in and settles down. Her grin is so wide it hurts her cheeks, from ear to ear. She gives the reins a little flick and the horse walks, and then Beth recalls for a moment that before all this there was nothing better than a fast gallop so she digs her heels in and she goes. 

_She flies._ The thundering off the hoofbeats in the ground matches the pounding of her blood in her ears. The wind pulls her hair from it’s messy ponytail and it streams behind her. It doesn’t even matter that it’s cold. It just matters that this is freedom. She circuits the whole yard twice, at full speed before she slows up. It’s not fair. She’s not even sure how far Michonne has ridden this horse. And everyone else deserves a chance. So Beth trots back towards them - her father, Carl, Daryl, Michonne, and Rick. 

Her father looks happier than Beth remembers him looking. She’s pretty sure it’s because she’s grinning so widely herself. And Carl looks impressed and so does Rick, the two of them watching as she sits above the horse, flushed and panting slightly. She’s forgotten how hard it is to ride a horse, how much work it takes. Michonne is smiling too, such a rare expression on her normally serious face and it seems good. It seems good. 

Daryl though. Daryl is looking at her through narrowed eyes, arms crossed. Beth isn’t sure what to make of this expression. She’s thought that she’s getting better at reading Dixon expressions but that’s just been her cockiness. She can’t make heads or tails of this one, something that looks like anger. Or maybe just general sullenness. But sullenness looks awfully similar to indifference with Daryl. So for all she knows, it could be delight. Or worry. Not like she would know. Not like it would matter. 

“Look as good up there as you ever did,” her father tells her with a fond smile, patting her knee. 

“We all getting rides like it’s the damn county fair?” Daryl asks loudly and even though it’s said with open hostility, everyone laughs. 

“Not you,” Carl says, as Beth gives the horse a brief hug. Beautiful thing has earned it, giving her a moment of peace. “Last time you rode a horse, you got an arrow through the side.” 

“Alright.” Daryl wrestles Carl into a headlock and Carl fights back, laughing. “Had about enough of you.” 

It’s a nice moment in an otherwise uneventful day and Beth looks back on it fondly as she gets ready for bed, hoping Michonne will stay for a few more days and let Beth ride again. As she closes her eyes, she thinks about the look on Daryl’s face, the one she hasn’t been able to puzzle out. 

Who knows. Who ever knows? 

* * *

  
  
  


**Beth Greene will be damned if she doesn’t get Daryl Dixon to see himself the way they all do.**

Beth plunges her hand into the bucket, rummaging around. Some of the Woodbury women are sitting with the kids, having craft time. Beth, if she wasn’t so busy, would take the time to think about how they’re settling in here. That she’s beginning to know some of them on sight. That they no longer mistake her for Judith’s mother. That Beth likes some of them. But not right now. She’s a woman on a mission. 

“Are you looking for something?” one of them asks her, in a friendly but puzzled tone and Beth just smiles at her, because she knows exactly what she’s seeking and she just has to — _bingo._

“Got it,” she tells the woman, fingers curling around the thick black marker and pulling it free from the bucket of crayons and pencils. The woman opens her mouth like she’s going to ask why Beth needs that but she’s already turning on her heel and walking out. Outside she heads, smiling to the few people who call for her but not stopping to chat. She doesn’t have very long. 

“Hey.” a boy looks up when Beth makes it to their little make-shift parking lot, which is just the inner yard where they park the cars and the truck and Daryl’s bike. There’s a kid getting ready for a run - Zach. He’s a man, probably, in the terms of old society but Beth still thinks of everyone from Woodbury as a kid. Mainly because she feels so fucking old. “You’re Beth.” 

“Sure am,” Beth says pleasantly, because she’s a good girl who minds her manners and Zach doesn’t drive her as crazy as the other boys, either the ones who are too soft to hold a gun or the ones who think it makes them tough to do just that. Zach is nice, she guesses. 

“You coming on the run today?” he asks her with a smile and she shakes her head. Her run with Daryl was the last time she's been outside the prison and she doesn’t want to press her luck. But Daryl must be out of the pack of cigarettes she found him, because the scent of smoke isn’t as strong on him anymore. Beth wonders if she would find another one for him. 

“Just gotta do something real quick,” she tells him, holding up the marker. His forehead creases in confusion but he doesn’t say anything else until Beth steps past all the cars and goes for Daryl’s bike. Zach starts forward involuntarily, hands raising like he’s going to stop her. 

“What do you—“ he begins but Beth stops him with a look. He lowers his hands slowly but his face is still curled in a grimace. “It’s — That’s Daryl Dixon’s bike.” 

“I know,” Beth tells him, like he’s an idiot. Then she uncaps the marker to a very visible flinch from Zach and he stands there, pained like she’s physically striking him. Maybe he thinks Daryl will hurt him for allowing anyone to touch his bike. But Beth isn’t anyone. And she’s not hurting the thing, she’s enhancing it. She’s improving it. 

Beth has to bend slightly to get herself to the level she wants. Biting her tongue between her teeth, Beth raises the marker and starts to scribble, trying to block out the memory that drives this whole thing. 

_“They’re good people,” one woman hisses to another in a hushed voice. “They took us in.”_

_“I’m not saying that they didn’t,” the second responds, with just as low a voice. Beth, having been walking Judith in an attempt to keep her from waking everyone in the cellblock, stills so she can listen. It’s not polite. But if any of these people are going to try anything, Beth will be damned if she doesn’t warn her people. “I’m just saying that they might not be as good as we think!”_

_“What makes you say that?”_

_“The one - the man with the bike - I think he was some sort of nazi. How do we know he’s not going to start taking out minorities? We have black women and children here!”_

_“A nazi?” the first woman sounds just as shocked as Beth. Daryl, a goddamn nazi? “What the hell makes you say that?”_

_“I was on fence duty when he drove that bike in last time,” the other woman protests. “There’s fucking SS lightening bolts on it, for god’s sake! I’m telling you. He’s trouble.”_

_“I don’t think so. I mean, he’s the one who hunts for us. And last week, he brought back hot chocolate packs.”_

_“Nazis can like hot chocolate too.”_

_Beth has heard enough. Part of her - the flaming with anger part - wants to rip the curtain back on this cell so that she can tell them off hotly that Daryl is no nazi. But the other part of her - the rational and calm part - recalls that it isn’t even Daryl’s bike in the first place. It was Merle’s, in the before. And that makes a whole lot of sense. Beth hefts Judith in her arms and bites her tongue from defending him from everyone. They’d never take her seriously and besides, Daryl would just get annoyed at her for going around and trying to convince everyone that he’s a saint._

_No. She’s got something else in mind._

It’s not too hard to trace over the whites of those two lightning bolts. She can hear Zach behind her, muttering and groaning slightly when he sees what Beth is doing. Beth wants to laugh at him and tell him to shut up and stop worrying, but she’s concentrating. Whatever he thinks, Beth isn’t actually trying to vandalize the rest of the bike. She’s just covering those ugly symbols, the ugly reminder of his big brother. 

Daryl said once that he can always hear Merle’s voice in his head. Beth didn’t live with the man that long, but she did long enough to know that any amount of Merle in one’s head is too damn much. 

One side down, Beth moves to the other. It takes several layers from the marker to cover up the insignia and Daryl would probably be able to scrub it away if he tried hard enough, but Beth doesn’t think that he will. Or at least, she hopes he won’t. When it’s covered, Beth takes a step back with a critical eye, snapping the top back on the marker. Well, you can still sort of see it. If you look closely, if you know it’s there. But it’s no longer so stark, so visible. Satisfied with her work, Beth gives a little nod. 

“You gonna run away?” Zach asks her, his tone hesitant. “He’ll be here soon.” 

“Nah.” Beth sticks the marker in her pocket and then sits down on the bike and resolves to wait. 

Zach looks like he’s going to faint. 

“—and I think we can hit that jerky store. Think anything’s left?” Daryl is talking to Sasha as they walk into the parking lot, trailed by a few other people who must be going on the run with them. Beth notes, with some amusement, that Zach’s hand tightens on his gun. She finds it so amusing that the new people are scared of Daryl. The man himself stops in his tracks when he sees Beth sitting on his bike, forehead knitting together in confusion. 

“You coming today?” Sasha is also frowning, but it’s not so deep. 

“Nope.” Beth pops the ‘p’ with a smack of her lips, watching Daryl’s face. She really believes that he won’t be mad at her for it, but it wouldn’t be the first time she's misjudged his anger. He’s not angry, not yet, just confused, taking her in, then her perch on his bike, and finally his bike as a whole. His bike now, because Beth’s going to remove all the horrible influences of Merle if it kills her. And then, once he spots her alterations, he takes a few strides forwards. 

Beth is up and meeting him halfway before Zach even has a chance to try and reach out to stop her. Beth goes toe to toe with him as Daryl opens and closes his fists. She wonders if the others think that he’s going to punch her but Beth knows better. She simply tilts her chin up and watches his face, knowing that there’s got to be a currant of emotions under all of it, but knowing he’ll never reveal any of it. Not in front of these people. Maybe not in front of her. But she waits until he’s felt most of them. Then she offers up the marker, the same one he’d handed her to decorate Judith’s first crib. 

“You…” that seems to be the extent of his ability to speak and Beth smiles. 

“It’s yours now. For you,” she explains, pressing the marker into his hand. “Not his.” 

Then she takes a step back, then a few more, and leaves Daryl before she really does push it too far. Behind her, she can hear Sasha mutter to Zach, “did she black out that stupid fucking nazi sticker?” 

“Yeah.” Zach sounds awed and it makes Beth smirk. “I think that she might just be the bravest girl here.” 

When Beth wakes up the next morning, she yawns and blinks in the gloom, idly wondering what today will bring. She reaches for her side table, where she keeps her light, when her fingers close over something else. Small, circular, roughly the length of her hand. Beth picks it up and grins, realizing that it’s the marker. And there’s a scrap of paper wrapped around it. Beth unfolds it and smiles as she squints to read it in the light that’s barely up. 

_**‘thanks’** _

She grins as she tucks the scrawled note under her pillow. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**If Daryl Dixon won’t see Beth Greene, she’ll just look elsewhere.**

Everyone has different reactions to Zach. 

Maggie drags her aside and tells her to be careful and then explains to her where exactly the condom stash is and Beth cringes because it’s not like that, it’s not like that at all, but Maggie is still rambling on, telling Beth that she has no idea how hard it is to have a baby as if Beth doesn’t spend every single day taking care of Judith like she’s her own but she stays quiet. Once, if everything hadn’t gone to shit, this is the speech Maggie might’ve given Beth before she went off to college. It lets Maggie feel like a big sister, like any of this is normal. 

So Beth lets her. 

Glenn does not have much to say. Beth didn’t think he would. He mostly blushes and mutters something about being able to take care of herself and coming to him if she ever needs anything. Beth thinks it’s sweet. It makes her wonder what it would’ve been like if Glenn had just been some guy Maggie met at college and she’d brought him home and he could tease Beth without it smarting with the grief of losing Shawn and she likes Glenn, she does, but he’s always belonged entirely to Maggie. 

Her Daddy doesn’t say much either, but Beth sees him smile. He thinks it’s a good thing. He thinks that this means that she’s settling in, building a life here. She knows he’s picturing them settling down, the next generation of kids. Maybe they’d have a few of their own. Tend to their gardens, raise their crops and their animals and everything will be okay. Beth lets him have this fantasy, just like she lets Maggie have her lectures. It makes it seem all a bit more normal. 

The rest of them have varying emotions. Rick takes about as much note of it as he does the color of Judith’s socks. He’s got bigger things on his mind, but he gives them a little smile and a nod. Carl is jealous. Beth sees that. Knows he’s always harbored a little crush on her, ever since last winter. And Beth loves Carl. God, she does. But he’s a little brother. That’s just… How it is. And Carol is happy for her, offering lowly to take Judith whenever she needs a break because while they may be comfortable with the Woodbury group, they’ll never trust them with Judith. 

Speaking of Beth’s best friend, she’d introduced her to Zach when she was down for a nap. Beth had brought him to look at her, in her crib, and he’d seemed a little bit confused but mostly amused, until Beth had calmly stated that this little girl was the most important thing in the entire world and that Beth would always - **always** \- pick her over Zach. Save her over Zach. Prioritize her wellbeing over any of his needs. And Zach’s smile had faltered when he realized that she wasn’t kidding, not even in the slightest, but he’d recovered with a lot of grace, picking up Judith’s little hand and pretending to shake it to introduce himself. 

Beth likes him more for it. 

The only one who she is hiding the relationship from is Daryl. And she’s not hiding it - no. She’s just not Maggie. She doesn’t need to flaunt her PDA up and down the prison. She’s a private person is all, that’s why she pulls her hand from Zach’s whenever they’re in view of the guard tower and Daryl’s on watch or why she scoots a little bit further away from him at meals if Daryl is eating with them as well. She’s not trying to hide it. She’s not. And she’s sure Zach has probably mentioned something. He goes on runs with him. Beth isn’t hiding anything. 

At least, she isn’t, once she’s been caught. 

“Ah, fuck.” she hears the quiet curse and startled, she breaks away from kissing Zach to see Daryl Dixon standing there, holding a sack of dirty clothes. He's clearly on the way to drop it off at the laundry room. Beth had been kissing Zach here because it’s secluded and remote. No one should be dropping laundry off today. Of course, she should never count on Daryl Dixon sticking to the schedule of normal people. 

“Hey, man,” Zach greets him, clearly not sure if he should let go of Beth or not. Daryl snorts, trying to push past them. 

“S’like a damn romance novel,” he snickers and Beth rounds on him, hands flying to her hips. 

“And what would you know about romance novels, Daryl Dixon?” she demands heatedly and behind her, Zach gives a noise like he’s been hit in the stomach. Daryl slowly turns back around to face her, expression closed. Then, slowly, when he sees her glaring at him, he gives her what might be seen as a smile. 

“Merle,” he states and Beth about falls over. 

“Merle?” she demands incredulously and Daryl gives his funny little one shouldered shrug, the kind he does when he’s feeling bashful. 

“Said he liked ‘um for the covers,” he explains, almost defensively and that makes sense, Beth guesses, given that it’s usually some busty lady with her clothes half off. 

“No, no.” she waves a hand, a bit dazed. “I’m just surprised… Merle could read.” 

It might’ve been the wrong thing to say, once. Daryl is still protective of his brother, even in the shape of his memory. And while Beth knows that Daryl has all sorts of complicated feelings when it comes to the matter that is Merle Dixon, she also knows Daryl’s sense of humor. And so she’s not surprised when she gets a chuckle out of him. It’s the closest thing he has to a laugh and so Beth bursts into giggles and he’s chuckling there beside her and Zach is a bit forgotten, not understanding the joke whatsoever. 

“He could read those,” Daryl mutters, when she lets up, and Beth grins at him, any of her anger forgotten. Daryl seems like he’s going to say more, mouth open, but then Zach asks, 

“Who’s Merle?” and the moment is lost. Beth tenses when she sees Daryl tense, both their shoulders jumping like someone’s pulled them by the same cord. Daryl looks at her for a long, slow moment and then gives her a tiny nod before hiking his sack back over his shoulder and disappearing on silent feet towards the laundry. Beth turns back to Zach with a sigh while he looks at her, bewildered.

“Merle was his brother,” she tells him quietly and Zach wisely hears the past tense and shuts up, but not before snaking his arm around her waist, coming in for another kiss. 

“What were we doing before we got interrupted?” 

And so Beth kisses him and now Daryl knows too and everything should be fine and great so Beth kisses him. She kisses him and does whatever it takes to keep any thought of the Dixon brothers far from her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, loving that quote from norman about daryl needing a hug but stabbing anyone who would try? more likely than you think. 
> 
> also i spend way too much of my time constructing elaborate backstory for the dixon brothers in my head so i can write like one line of dialogue some plz help
> 
> reviews are beloved and treasured and everything!!


	5. This Thing Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay!!! last chapter where we're in the prison interlude :) 
> 
> you guys are the absolute best. i cannot tell you guys what this fic and this pairing means to me. happy 2021 to everyone!

**It’s one thing for Beth Greene to know about Daryl Dixon but it’s another thing to see it.**

“Hey you.” Zach grins at her when she joins him in the yard, giving her a kiss. “What are you doing here?” 

“Daddy said somebody wanted tools.” she hoists up the bag she carries with her. “I thought it’d be Daryl though.” 

“It is,” grumbles a voice from under the car and Beth notices what she had missed before; two boots and jean clad legs stick out from under the car. Zach snorts as Beth pokes Daryl in the thigh with her toe, making him grunt, “fuck off.” 

“Whatcha doing?” Beth asks Zach, knowing that Daryl won’t answer much of anything at the moment. 

“Tuning her up.” Zach slaps the hood of the car. “Daryl’s been helping me out. He’s pretty good.” 

There’s a grumble from under the car that seems distinctly unpleased. 

“I grabbed all the tools I could find.” she sets the bag down so that Zach can riffle through the contents. “Didn’t know what you’d need.” 

“Nah, these are all good,” he tells her, giving her another kiss to the cheek. “What are you doing today?” 

“Fence duty in a little bit,” she answers with a sigh. She’ll need ten showers to get clean again. But a job is a job and Beth doesn’t mind it, not really. 

“Coming to see me after?” Zach asks with a smile, catching her hip and trying to pull her closer to him. 

There’s a mumble under the car to the tune of _‘damn romance novel’_ that Beth doesn’t quite catch. 

“Maybe. I got Judith again tonight, she’s being a little fussy lately,” she tells him with a little sigh. Mostly she wants a night of peace, all to herself, maybe with some hot chocolate and her journal. 

“Oi, pliers!” comes a hard voice from under the car and Zach jumps like he’s been stuck with a cattle prod. Beth giggles as he rummages through the bag, then kneels to hand the tool to Daryl. 

“Are you scared of him?” Beth teases him when he straightens up and Zach doesn’t even blink. 

“Yeah, I am. You saying you’re not?” 

“No.” Beth also doesn’t blink. And it’s true. She never will be scared of him. Not after it all. 

“Course you’re not, you’re the girl he let draw all over his bike. Either you’re not scared of anything, Beth Greene, or you’ve got a good reason not to be scared of him.” Zach appraises her with a curious smile. 

“Both,” she states simply. 

“I’ve been trying to figure out what he was, before all this,” Zach tells her, sitting on the back of the truck gate. Beth doesn’t go up next to him. She stays standing by Daryl, watching as he moves around under the car. “He said he wasn’t a mechanic but he knows his shit. Won’t tell me though.” 

“If he doesn’t want to tell you, he never will,” Beth remarks and smiles faintly at the grunt from under the car. “You going for runs in this or what?” 

“Fastest thing we got,” Zach says proudly. “Even if it isn’t the biggest. Using it for longer treks, but it needs a tuneup so Daryl’s being kind.” 

“I’m sure he is,” Beth says quietly and a hand emerges, grimy. 

“Pry bar.” 

“Yes, Mr. Dixon,” Beth retorts, locating and slapping the tool into his hand. A snort, from under the car. Zach raises an eyebrow at her. 

“You know cars?” 

“Helped Daddy fix tractors and stuff back home,” she explains with a shrug. 

“Kinda hot,” Zach mummers and there’s a very pointed throat clearing from between them before Daryl rolls out from under the car, filthy and frowning. 

“All good?” Beth asks him with a sweet smile, ignoring Zach. 

“Get her started,” he orders Zach, who slides into the driver’s seat. Daryl comes to stand beside Beth, glaring at the car like it’s done him a personal injustice until it starts up with a purr. Only then does the crease between Daryl’s eyes relax some. He flexes his arms, sweaty and covered in dirt and oil. 

“Thanks man. She might be running between now than she was even before the turn,” Zach jokes and Daryl grunts but with a little smile and Beth turns away from both of them. 

Kinda hot indeed. 

* * *

**One day, Daryl Dixon is going to look at Beth Greene and like what he sees.**

Maggie and Beth face off, across the room from each other, glaring. In between them, looking supremely uncomfortable, is Glenn. He’s uncomfortable because for once, he agrees with Beth instead of Maggie and that’s a pretty unfamiliar place to be in. Ringed around them, like spectators for a bloodsport, are all the members of their old team - Rick, Daryl, Carol, Carl, Daddy - and some of the new ones - Michonne, Tyreese, Sasha, Karen, Zach. They watch the sisters like a tennis match, eyes pinging back and forth, waiting to see who will emerge the victor. 

Beth wishes she had a gun. Last fight she broke up in here, it’d just taken one bullet into the ceiling. 

“No,” Maggie says flatly and Beth crosses her arms. 

“Yes.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Maggie, I think she —" Glenn tries to start but Maggie shoots him a look so chilling, he clams up on the spot. 

Too bad Beth’s been getting that look since she was two years old and now she’s immune. 

“We’re having a wedding, Maggie,” Beth says impatiently. 

They’d gotten on this whole argument because Maggie had made some joke about Zach stealing her husband’s dessert and Beth’s head had whipped around to demand _husband?_ and _si_ _nce when?_ Maggie’d rolled her eyes and said it was _just something they decided, wasn’t like they have to get a license for it anymore_ but Beth had gaped and her and demanded _what, without a wedding?_ So Maggie had shrugged and said _no time for a wedding, it’s the end of the world_ so then Beth had risen in all her righteous fury to tell Maggie _y’all are having a wedding, goddamnit._

And now they’re yelling at each other from opposite ends of the cafeteria while Glenn attempts to referee even though he too wants a wedding. The rest of them haven’t taken a side, instead watching this like it’s entertainment. Probably because it is the best amusement they’ve had in awhile. Beth wants to tell them to agree with her or fuck off, but Daddy won’t like that language. 

“We don’t have the resources,” Maggie protests and Rick glances at the rest of the crowd. 

“Could probably spare a few extra rations,” he says mildly and Beth grins, vindicated. 

“I ain’t got a dress,” Maggie argues. 

“You can get married in jeans and a teeshirt.” Beth doesn’t say what she actually wants to say, which is that she doesn’t have a dress either. 

“We don’t have a pastor or a church or anything.” Maggie looks for support but receives only impassive faces. No one wants to risk ending the argument and thus their evening fun. 

“Maggie,” Beth says, exasperated. “We need something good in here. Look at them. Watching us fight like it’s a damn rodeo, we’re that bored.” she hears a snort from the crowd that sounds very Dixon-esque but doesn’t look back at Daryl. She doesn’t want to make this all about her, but she will if that’s what it takes. “I always thought I’d get to be your maid of honor, like a little sister should. And… I still want to.” 

The welling tears in her eyes might be overkill. But Maggie usually cracks to Beth’s tears, had when she was a little girl and still does now. She wavers and Beth squeezes her eyes like she when she was a kid so that one single tear tracks down her slightly grimy cheek and then Maggie folds like the house of cards they used to build and admits, 

“Fine. We can have… A reception. No ceremony.” 

“Okay!” Beth breaks into a smile and she hears Carol laugh and Carl clapping and a muffled, “shit, girl” that can only be from Daryl. “I’ll plan it all Maggie!” 

“You better.” Maggie stalks out and Glenn follows, but only after he grabs Beth into a hug and swings her around, whooping. Then Beth turns to face her spectators, crossing her arms with a smile while they turn apprehensive. As punishment, they’re all going to help her, whether they want to or not. 

As it would be, a wedding reception at the end of the world for a wedding that never really even happened is about as much fun as it sounds. But it’s summer now and the nights are warm. Everyone gets to be outside. Daryl shot them a wild boar and Carol cooked it, muttering about a wedding feast with a grin and now everyone is eating and laughing and talking and it feels like everything is going to be okay. And that’s why Beth clambers up onto the table, smiling when everyone turns to look at her.

“Hi y’all, I’m Beth Greene and I’m the maid of honor of this whole shindig.” Beth isn’t a shy person. Never has been, especially when she stands up to sing. “Maggie’s my big sister and now Glenn’s my big brother and… Well, it’s been a real hard time. And I always thought I’d do this a little differently. But I’m gonna sing to them. For their first dance.” 

Beth had decided it would be a surprise. And now she sees that it was the right choice, because Glenn is grinning at Maggie like she’s hung the moon and Maggie is smiling at Beth with tears in her eyes. Everyone backs off, clearing a little circle that leaves Glenn and Maggie in the middle and Glenn takes Maggie into his arms. Sure, they both have guns strapped to them. And the snarl of walkers is never too far away. But it’s beautiful nonetheless. 

So she sings. 

"Now, I've heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord. But you don't really care for music, do you?” she wishes she could do the song softer, the way it deserves, but her voice needs to carry so that Maggie and Glenn can dance to it. And it’s an unconventional first dance choice. But Maggie used to love this song, before, and Beth knows she can sing it well. "It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift. The baffled king composing… Hallelujah…” 

It almost brings her to tears, to see Maggie and Glenn there swaying together, heads touching. And of course Beth is sad. Sad she’s not standing at the front of their little country church in some semi-ugly dress, looking on as her sister marries the man of her dreams. But this is what they can do and Beth is just glad that they get it at all. When she trails off, smiling, the crowd around them bursts into applause and Beth blushes, dipping her head in acknowledgement of the praise, then hugging Maggie when she comes to embrace her tightly, whispering thanks in her ear. 

“Think we can make this into a proper party?” asks one the Woodbury men, who’s name is Gavin, and then he pulls out a dusty wooden guitar and everyone breaks into cheers. Beth grins because this is her surprise for everyone, not just Glenn and Maggie, because she’s been practicing with Gavin since Maggie conceded to this idea and it’s gonna be a real party, a real reception. 

Beth sings, which means she can’t dance, but that’s fine because it means she can watch. See Glenn and Maggie, dancing and laughing together. Rick twirling Carol while Michonne and Carl make up their own little strange moves in the corner. Zach dances with some of the women from Woodbury but smiles up at her and the only one who doesn’t dance is Daryl but that doesn’t surprise Beth. 

She’s got one more surprise up her sleeve in regards to him. 

“Ready?” she asks Gavin, in a lull between songs, when she sees Daryl lurking at the edge of the group. 

“Can’t believe you know this song,” he chuckles, tuning the guitar slightly. “Ready if you are.” 

“Hey y’all, this one is a bit different,” Beth says loudly, grinning. “Someone, uh, told me to learn some of these songs. So I did. I hope he’s real pleased, cause now Judith is gonna know them too.” everyone titters at her little joke, because they all know that she sings Judith whatever she’s got on her mind, but Beth is looking at Daryl. 

It’d been Zach who’d found it, ironically. The Led Zeppelin CD. He’d showed it to her as a joke which had turned to a confused frown when Beth had snatched it from him and ran off with a huge smile. Beth had begged Sasha to let her use the boombox before they needed it again and she’d reluctantly agreed. Which is how Beth gets to be standing up here on a picnic table, and singing. 

Singing Led Zeppelin. For him. 

"And if I say to you tomorrow, take my hand, child come with me. It's to a castle I will take you. Where what's to be, they say will be. Catch the wind, see us spin, sail away, leave today. Way up high in the sky, hey, whoa. But the wind won't blow, you really shouldn't go. It only goes to show, that you will be mine, by takin' our time, ooh.” it’s a weird song to sing acoustically and Gavin had stared at her in bewilderment when she’d asked if he would play it with her. But Beth’s doing her best. "And if you say to me tomorrow, oh what fun it all would be. Then what's to stop us, pretty baby? But what is and what should never be.” 

Everyone is pairing off, swaying. Everyone but Daryl, who stands there with his arms crossed and leaning against the post for the basketball hoop and just watching her, the same way he’d watched her when she sang in the field and in the cellblock and all the other times. Watches her like she’s some sort of puzzle he can’t quite figure out. Beth doesn’t feel like a puzzle. Beth feels like she’s singing for him. And she kinda wants to dance with him too, but she can’t sing and dance at the same time. So she sings to him instead. 

"We're gonna sail, little girl… Do do do, bop bop a do-oh. My my my my my my my yeah. Everybody I know seems to know me well. But does anybody know I'm gonna move like hell. Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, oh, Lord. Baby, baby, baby, oh, right now, yeah. No, no, no, no, no, come on, now.”

Beth ends the song to more cheers and a few people shout out requests but Gavin is the one who nudges her in the thigh with his guitar and gestures off into the crowd muttering, “G’on. Have a dance, I'll cover. You deserve it.” 

“Thank you,” she tells him honestly and he grins before shooing her away. Beth hops off the table, receiving the praise with a smile, nodding but not stopping, pressing her way through the cluster of people before she stands before Daryl, hands behind her back, swinging from side to side out of habit, like Judith is in her arms and not in her crib, safely asleep. 

Daryl doesn’t say a word. Heck, he doesn’t even move. The only sign that Beth gets that he even acknowledges her presence is that his chin tilts down slightly, so that he can keep his eyes level with hers, up until the moment she halts before him. She’s not sure what he’s going to say, given what she just sang and the way she’d practically announced it had been for him, even if it had. He’d said she needed to learn more Led Zeppelin for Judith. But she learned a little bit for him too. 

“Beth!” Zach calls from the throng of people, from the party, where she should be instead of here on the outskirts, staring down Daryl Dixon like he’s a writer for Rolling Stones and she’s waiting for his review. “Coming?” 

“Well?” she asks Daryl, tapping her foot. She does want to dance. But - and the thought is there and gone as quickly as can be - she finds herself only wanting to dance with him. 

“Go,” he tells her, without muttering his now standard bit about them being a romance novel and Beth does because she won’t be able to weasel compliments out of him if she spent her whole life trying it. So she does, but as Zach twirls her around, then her Daddy and then Rick and even a blushing and nervous Carl, her eyes go to find Daryl’s, time and time again. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**The moment where Beth Greene sees all of Daryl Dixon is when she finally tells herself the truth.**

"You look dead where you stand," Carol mutters and Beth gives her a tired smile, knowing she's swaying on her feet but not being able to stop it. 

"That bad, huh?" she probably looks like a walker. Drenched in sweat. Covered in gore and grime and other things. She wonders just how long it'll take her to comb all the knots out of her hair tonight and preemptively winches at the idea of it. 

"I mean, I've seen worse, I just might not be able to recall," Carol teases her, passing Beth a plate of food. 

"Georgia heat." Beth turns her face up to the sun. "Forgot how awful it is." 

"Yeah, we say that now. Then next winter we'll be back to complaining that it's not hot enough and so on and so forth."

"Guess we're never happy," Beth remarks and Carol's smile is a sad one. 

"Guess not." 

Beth sits down to eat, not even bothering to wash off anymore than her hands. She'll take a proper shower later, but she's too hungry to waste time doing that before she eats. She was up all last night with Judith, which is getting rare these days. Usually, that would entitle her to a day off. But then her Daddy had come and gotten everyone, telling them that a herd of walkers had come through overnight. Everyone was on the fences, trying to make sure they didn't crumple. 

It'd made the old, familiar fear in Beth's chest rise up again when she'd hurried down to the fence line with everyone else. All the walkers gathered there, teeth gnashing, moaning and hissing. Everyone over the age of 13 had a weapon - knife, stick, rebar, sharpened cane - and was shoving them through the gaps while the kids ran up and down the fence with pots and pans, trying to keep the walkers from bunching up in one spot. 

It'd taken all day to bring them all down. Now, panting and dirty and sunburned, they can sit down to eat. Beth misses sunscreen. She never thought she'd say it but she does. It's an odd thing, she thinks as she digs into the fried potatoes with a little groan of satisfaction. She misses the smell of sunscreen. 

"What a day." Zach collapses next to her with his own plate of food. Carl sits down on the other side, giving her a little smile. They look just as bad as her for blood and guts; the only difference is that Carl's face isn't bright red on top of it. Beth wonders if he'll let her borrow the hat sometime. 

"You okay?" Carl asks her, shoveling food into his mouth. "You had Judith last night, right?" 

"Yeah." she gives him a tired smile. "She must've had a bad dream or something. Couldn't get her to settle down for nothing." and Daryl has been on guard, so she didn't even have the option of bringing her to his tower and letting Judith cry herself out while Daryl and Beth talked. 

"Maybe she knew," Carl offers. "Maybe she's got a superpower, can sense when the walkers are coming." 

"Wish she knew enough words to tell us so," Beth replies with a grin. Judith has been babbling lately - gibberish really, but there's some 'dadadadada' in there that Rick claims is her first word. But it's nice to hear Carl joke again. 

"One day." and then he's back to cramming beans into his mouth like he's not sick of them. 

"Hey." Zach rubs between her shoulder blades with his thumb. "Maybe after we shower tonight, you can come over to my cellblock?" 

"I don't know." she gives him a tired smile. "I'm pretty beat. Don't think I could even manage to — what the hell is he doing?" 

"Who?" Zach cranes his neck to see just what Beth is looking at. She's half out of her seat, squinting into the sun, trying to see what's going on just beyond the fence. It looks like someone is out there, stacking bodies on the trailer, moving the dead walkers away from the fence so that they can go pile them up to be burned later. Someone who is wearing dark jeans, a button down with the sleeves ripped off, and dark, messy hair on his head. 

_Daryl._

"He's just cleaning up the bodies," Carl tells her, like it's obvious. Which it is. Beth knows that he's cleaning up the bodies. But why is it him? He was on guard duty last night. He spent just as much time at the fence today as she did. He's got to be starving and exhausted, probably even more so than her. And now he's dragging to bodies around, alone? 

"Carol," Beth calls and the woman looks up. "Did... Did Daryl eat?" 

"I haven't seen him come by, no," Carol frowns, looking over the heads of everyone gathered. "Maybe he went to the showers?" 

"Nope." Beth sighs. "Fix me another plate, will you?" 

"That hungry?" Carol remarks lightly and Beth shakes her head, pointing to outside the fence. Carol looks, frowning, only to have her face smooth into something like sadness. "Oh." 

"I'll bring it down to him," Beth says, finishing what she can on her plate and then sliding the rest over to Carl, who grins at her. Zach looks less thrilled, catching her wrist as she swings her legs out from under the table. 

"Beth. Where are you going?" 

"To bring Daryl food," she explains, eyebrows furrowed. 

"He'll come up and get it himself," Zach says, eyes searching her face. Beth snorts. 

"Trust me, he won't." in fact, after this, Daryl will probably go hunting to bring them back food, and then after that he'll take guard duty again, and then go on a supply run, and then after that singlehandedly rebuild the entire prison or kill every walker standing because he's Daryl fucking Dixon and he won't stop unless someone tells him that it's okay if he does. 

"Beth, he's not Judith." Zach is still holding her wrist. "He's a grown adult. If he wants to be out there, let him. He's just taking care of things." 

"Yeah, I know." Beth pulls her wrist from his grasp and takes the plate Carol is offering. "But when he's taking care of everyone else, who takes care of him?"

"Beth." Zach looks annoyed, calling her back, but Beth ignores him. Carol gives her a little nod as Beth goes, ignoring Zach shouting after her and the eyes of everyone watching her curiously. 

She means it though. All Daryl does is take care of them and protect them. People respect that now at least, seem to understand that just because he's quiet and taciturn and sullen doesn't mean that he's some horrible person. It's partially because Daryl does so much for all of them and partially because Beth glares the skin off of anyone who dares think otherwise. She knows Carol and Carl and the others do the same. 

But who takes care of Daryl? 

She pauses at the gate to grab two more knives to join the one she keeps on her belt at all times, in tandem with the gun that's always in her back pocket. Then she slips through the gap, shutting the gate behind her, and wrinkling her nose at the overwhelming stench of it, starts trekking over to Daryl. 

"Hey," she calls, when she gets close enough. Daryl, midway through heaving a body onto the trailer, looks up. She sees his eyebrows knit together in confusion for a moment before smoothing out when he sees what she offers. "I figured you'd want some before it got cold." 

"Nah." he finishes throwing the body on the pile. He looks even worse than Beth and that's saying something, so she doesn't move, still holding the plate. "Eat later." 

"Daryl." she tries to use her best no-nonsense, _do-as-I-say-or-you'll-get-it_ voice, the one that her mama used that could always stop her, Maggie, and Shawn in their tracks. It must work, because Daryl finally goes still, squinting at her like he doesn't trust her not to whack him on his backside with a wooden spoon. "Eat the damned food." 

"Gotta get this done." he goes back to the bodies. Beth knows his reasoning — the stink is already bad, it'll only get worse if they leave them to fester but she knows he's been on his feet as long if not longer than she has. So it's impatience and exhaustion that drives her to stupidity. 

She marches to the back of the trailer, thrusts the plate into his hands, shoves him down to sit (probably too close to the bodies but it's not like they're grossed out by this anymore) and orders, in a tone that her Daddy reserves only for groundings or sermons — "Daryl Dixon, shut the hell up and eat." 

Surprisingly — or maybe not, considering the amount of respect Daryl has for her father — he actually stays seated. And peels off his gross, grimy gloves. And eats. Satisfied and unwilling to push her luck, Beth picks up the gloves and pulls them on. There's some lighter looking walkers over there, either half rotted away or smaller bodies. She doesn't think of them as kids anymore. Just smaller bodies. 

"Hey," he calls, around a mouthful of food, when she starts dragging one such corpse towards the trailer. "Hell you doing?" 

"What needs to be done," she counters and he's glaring at her. 

"I got it." 

"No, you're eating." Beth strains, lifting the body onto the considerable pile he's got started. He'll have to make a drop soon. 

"You been working all day." 

Of course he notices that. Of course he does. Beth turns back to the bodies so that he doesn't see the expression on her face. Is there anything he doesn't pick up on? Anything that he doesn't observe behind his curtain of bangs? Beth is fairly certain she could get a face tattoo and a mohawk and Maggie wouldn't notice, but she'd stub her toe and Daryl would somehow be there with a bandaid and ice pack. 

"So have you." 

"M'fine." 

"No you ain't." Beth pants as she starts pulling another body towards the trailer. "I know you had guard duty last night too. Why's no one helping you?" 

"They got hungry," he says dismissively, like he hasn't half cleaned the plate. 

"They're taking care of themselves," Beth corrects, "like you should be doing." 

"M'fine." the growl is more insistent now. "Quit, 'fore you hurt yourself." 

"I'm young, I'm not going to throw my back out or nothing." except she does feel a little lightheaded. Water is a valuable resource around here and it doesn't do to waste it, so Beth rations hers. Like he can read her thoughts, Daryl shoves a bottle under her nose. 

"Drink." 

"Alright." she relents and takes a couple swallows, glad to have it even if it's warm. Daryl eyes her, polishing off what's left on the plate before throwing the plate and fork in the bed of the truck. 

"Happy now?" 

"Tickled pink," she answers, tossing him back the water bottle. "C'mon, I'll go with you to dump these." 

"Nah." that makes him scowl again. "Do it myself." 

"Get in the damn truck, Daryl." Beth is already opening the passenger door. He glares at her something fierce but he could just shove her out and be done with it. The fact that he doesn't means that he's a little bit glad for her help and she looks out the window so that he doesn't see her smile. 

They get more help after another load or two. The rest of the group wanders down like they remember that this is part of the job too and so the sun has just barely set when finally they drive back through the gate and up to the prison, parking the truck and throwing the aprons and gloves where they can be rinsed off. 

Beth's back is aching. And she lost feeling in her feet several hours ago. It's muscle memory that drags her to the showers, where she rinses off in the icy water, unflinching. All things considered, it feels good on her sunburnt skin. Then she's toweling off and slipping into clean clothes and the only thing she can think about is diving headfirst into her pillow and sleeping for a month.

"Hey." a hand catches her hip when she passes a hallway and she resists the urge to squeak, turning and taking a step back all at once. But it's just Daryl, standing there with wet hair too, looking as cheerful as he ever does. When he realizes what he's grabbed he lets go like he's been burned and Beth realizes he probably had meant to grab her hand but both her hands are braiding back her hair at the moment so he'd caught her waist. 

"Hi," she says quickly, to cover any awkwardness before he runs off. She keeps braiding like she's unbothered, even though her heart is still pounding long after the surprise has faded. 

"Thanks," he says shortly and her eyebrows jump all the way up. A thank you, from Daryl? It's unheard of. She should call the news, submit it for an official day. He's saying thank you? 

"For what?" she asks him with a grin, wanting to see what she can drag out of him. She expects he'll just roll his eyes, scuff his boots, mumble something vaguely threatening, and then stomp off. Because that's what he does. She doesn't expect him to give a little huff like he's gathering his courage before saying, 

"Watching out for me." 

"It's nothing," she says hastily. Now she's the one that's uncomfortable. Teasing Daryl is fun because he's such a grump. It's a lot harder to do so when he's being vulnerable with her. "You'd do it for me, is all. You'll work yourself to death for us, cause that's the way you are. And I just want to help, you know?" 

She promises herself that's all it is. That if it was Rick or Glenn or Maggie, that she'd do the same thing. And maybe she would. But with Daryl, it's deeper. She's struck with that thought, standing here before him, her fingers tangled up in her braid and his blue eyes on her. It's deeper, it's so much deeper, it's right to the center of the earth. 

_She loves him._

She'd fall over if she wasn't frozen to the spot. She loves him? No. That's not it. Can't be. She's with Zach. And he's Daryl. He's _Daryl._ And yet, that's somehow all of it. He's the protector, the defender, the avenging angel of this whole mess. And Beth wants to do the same for him. She wants to take care of him, because she's sure that if anything happens to him, her whole being will be emptied and she'll be nothing more than a hollow thing, no better than the dead. 

She stumbles and his hands shoot out to catch her, steady her, and by necessity she leans into him and that's the second big mistake she's made today. Because he smells like soap and cold water and just the hint of something else, his own unique smell that's dampened by the freshness of him and Beth thinks about inhaling the smell, inhaling him. 

Her first mistake had been to admit to loving him at all, even if it's just to herself. 

"Girl." he sounds exasperated. "Told you to rest." 

"I will." her voice sounds faint and far away to her own ears. Daryl still hasn't let her go, like he doesn't think she's got the ability to stand on her own two feet just yet. 

"C'mon, I'll walk you back." he does let go now but his hands hover at her side like she's a newborn calf and she wants to swat his hands away, to make a joke about leaving her be, but she can't. The whole world has changed, has somehow moved a few degrees too far and Beth cannot get it right again. So she just goes, with him beside her, and she thinks, _huh. I'm in love with Daryl Dixon._

* * *

  
  
  
  


**Beth Greene thinks maybe it’s kids who see Daryl Dixon best.**

“One at a time, one at a time,” Beth chides as the kids clammer at her. “Take turns, y’all hear me? And share.” 

“Okay!” eager hands pull at her and with a laugh, Beth sets down the bucket of chalk. All the kids descend, fighting and trading for colors, yelling about what they’re going to draw. Beth hears butterflies and sunshine and cows and pigs and rainbows and she smiles. There’s still good things in this world. These kids don’t dream of death and decay and rot. 

“Beth, I’m gonna draw a snowman!” one yells and she nods, sitting in the shade with Judith. 

“You don’t know what one of those looks like,” mutters another and Beth smiles at the petty bickering. It reminds her of the way things were with Shawn and Maggie, with Beth trying so hard to keep up with them. 

“Do so!” 

“Do not!” 

“Do so!” 

“Do not!” 

“Alright.” she breaks up the argument with ease. “Both of you draw a snowman and I’ll tell you who does better, how’s that sound?” 

“Okay!” both of them set to it. Beth watches idly, until she sees that Mika is sitting there on the ground, turning the chalk over in her hands without bringing it to the pavement. After a few minutes, Beth says softly, 

“What are you gonna draw, Mika?” 

“I dunno,” she says quietly. “Don’t really feel like drawing anything.” 

“Not even a bunny? Or some flowers?” Beth asks and Mika shrugs. 

“That stuff’s okay, I guess,” she mutters. 

“Well, draw whatever makes you happy,” Beth suggests, picking up her own bit of chalk. “I’m going to draw a horse.” 

“Okay.” Mika looks pleasantly surprised at the suggestion and Beth smiles as she ducks her head over her own work. 

It’s a pleasant afternoon, outside in the sunshine, with the kids chattering and the adults preparing food. Beth is lulled into a sense of peace with it, humming and nodding along to Judith’s babbling while she works on her horse. It’s not a great one. Beth had a real knack for it as a child, but it’s been years since she’s done one so she forgives herself for her mistakes. She’s just about done when there’s a roar of a very familiar bike. 

“They’re back!” one of the kids closer to the gate cries in delight, standing. Beth gets up as well, peering out. Daryl’s indeed back, on his bike, along with Maggie and Glenn in the truck. Grinning, Beth picks up Judith and walks over. 

“Hey you two.” Maggie grins at her, slamming the truck door closed behind her. She’s splattered with blood and guts but she’s still smiling, so Beth assumes it’s gone at least decently well. Glenn looks slightly worse for wear, and Daryl seems untouched. 

“You okay?” Beth asks her regardless. 

“You won’t believe what we got,” Maggie tells her instead, going to lift the tarp off the back of the trucks. “Whole set of comforters, still in the plastic. And get this.” Maggie hefts a bulging bag. “Bras, Bethy. Honest to god bras.” 

“It’s a strange world we live in where I never thought I’d be so happy to see a bunch of bras,” Glenn mutters and Maggie whacks him in the chest without looking. 

“What else you find?” Beth asks, as the kids start to help unload, leaving the chalk rolling on the pavement. Maggie exchanges looks with Glenn that makes Beth nervous, before Maggie offers her a knife. 

“We hit up a hunting store too,” she explains, as Beth fingers the handle. It’s the nicest knife she’s had by far, the handle smooth and the blade unblemished. “Daryl was looking for more arrows. He found this instead.” 

“Oh.” Beth takes it, unsure of what it means to have something from him. And why he’s not giving it to her himself. It’s not like it’s that personal of a gift. They all have five or six knives on them at any given moment. What’s one more, especially one as nice as this? She recalls that she'd told him that night in the library that her's was getting worn out, but she hadn't meant for him to go get her a new one. Maggie and Glenn seem to be waiting for Beth to give an explanation, but she couldn't give them one even if she wanted to. She just stares at it in bewilderment. 

“Take those inside, tell Sasha,” Maggie orders the kids and they go, all chattering. Maggie pats her arm and goes with. Beth slides the knife into her pocket, before realizing that Mika is still kneeling on the ground, finishing her drawing. 

“What did you end up doing, Mika?” she asks and the little girl sits back, showing Beth a sprawling tapestry of stick figures. 

“It’s all of us,” she explains. “That’s what makes me happy. There’s me and Lizzie and my dad. And that’s Carl and Patrick. There’s you - you’re holding Judith. And that’s Sasha, and there’s Carol, and that’s Daryl. He’s protecting us. That’s his bow.” she points it out and Beth smiles, hearing the crunch of boots on the concrete behind her. She knows it’s Daryl. 

“That’s a real nice picture,” Beth compliments her genuinely. “Now how about you help bring in the supplies?” 

“Sure.” Mika scrambles to her feet and goes, leaving Beth with Judith and Daryl. Beth turns to face him, not surprised to see that he’s looking at Mika’s picture with a little frown. 

“It’s a nice knife,” Beth says, once Daryl has been silent for a while. She can't get anything else out without feeling her heart skip. “All for me?” 

“Yeah," he says softly and that’s that. Beth waits until he’s finished studying Mika’s mural before handing over Judith. Little traitor likes him more anyways, but Beth doesn’t hold that against her much. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Just when Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon think there’s nothing new to see in this world, they're proven wrong.**

"Oh my god," Beth breathes, not daring to move. "Oh my god, Carl, oh my god." 

"Shush," he says, waving a hand at her, both of them staring. "Don't scare her." 

"I won't," Beth promises, her eyes glued to Judith's form. "But I think that you should get your dad." 

"What if I miss it?" Carl demands and Beth takes a sharp gasp as Judith moves. 

"Hurry up then." 

Carl tears off towards the field, screaming "Dad! Dad! Dad!" at the top of his lungs in a way that makes Beth cringe because if he was yelling for her like that she'd assume walkers or worse but in Carl's defense, it is a big moment. If Beth has her parenting books to go off of, they're about to see Judith's first steps. 

She's been cruising for awhile now, mostly in the library where she can use the shelves for support. And she's been standing a lot lately, first for just a second and now several, before she falls back on her butt. But today they're out in the courtyard so that the other kids can draw with chalk and play outside and Judith has been determinedly standing and wobbling, looking like she's about to take her first steps. 

"What? What's wrong?" Rick comes running behind Carl, as panicked as Beth thought he'd be, and Daryl isn't far behind, finger on the trigger of the crossbow. 

"Wait!" Beth cries, throwing her arms wide so that neither of them bothers Judith. One of her scrawny arms collides with Rick's stomach and the other to Daryl's hard chest, but somehow they miraculously stop. Judith turns and gives a happy gurgle at the sight of them, pushing herself to her feet. 

"Oh my god," Beth hears Rick mutter and then Carl kneels beside them. 

"C'mon, Judith," he encourages her, patting his lap. "C'mon Judith, c'mon over here. Yeah, come to me." 

Judith looks at her big brother. Judith raises one little tiny foot, wobbles, then steps forward and places it down. 

It's like a bomb has gone off. Everyone around them — Rick, Carl, Beth, Daryl, the other kids, the adults who'd come running at the commotion — they all burst into cheers as Judith takes two more steps and then falls onto her butt, still a few inches short of Carl but closer nonetheless. Carl scoops her up and lifts her high and Beth finds herself swept off her feet by a whooping Daryl, who squeezes her hard enough to crack a rib. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, she's walking!" Rick says loudly and Carl is crying and so is Beth because there's still milestones to be reached in this world, they can still have new things, and Judith can walk. Judith is walking. 

She doesn't even realize that Daryl's arm is still slung over her shoulder as he looks at Judith, beaming. 

Two miracles today then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think glenn and maggie 100% had a wedding and you will never ever change my mind. the song beth sings for daryl is 'what is and what should never be' by led zeppelin. i thought a little forbidden romance tune might appeal to beth.
> 
> also in regards to beth's knife, there's a little easter egg in there that i'll be explaining shortly....
> 
> also if you guys are interested, i've started posting reunion oneshots - the fic is called 'it's going to take you people years to recover from all of the damage" from our favorite song ;) first chapter went up yesterday! 
> 
> again, reviews are the biggest kindness you can leave a writer. thank you, bless you!


	6. When We're Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI FRIENDS OKAY HI HELLO
> 
> TWO EXCITING PIECES OF NEWS
> 
> 1\. i am super duper thrilled to announce that this is officially going to have a sequel!!! i will soon begin posting a companion fic for this from daryl's POV that covers some moments referenced here + canon moments + new moments. i am JAZZED and i hope you guys are too!!!
> 
> 2\. we now officially move into season 4 aka STILL AND ALONE AKA MY FAV EPISODES OF ALL TIMEEEEEE
> 
> okay no more notes only reading

**Beth Greene knows why Daryl Dixon comes to see her, but it’s still nice.**

“Beth.” Carl comes over to get her, nudging her with his toe. Beth is watching Judith take a few more shaky steps, a faint smile on her face. There’s nothing else to do in quarantine. 

“Yeah?” she’s gotten mighty good at ignoring Carl lately. He’s the most frustrated about all of this, determined that he should be with his dad and the others, no matter what Beth tells him. He’s given to fits of sulking or anger, depending on the day. 

“Someone’s here for you.” he means at the door, which is where they communicate with the others on the outside. 

“Maggie?” Beth prepares to push herself up and off the floor, one hand on her knee. 

“Daryl.” 

Her hand slips off her knee and she nearly face-plants into the floor. For a second she can only stare at Carl dumbly, but he’s too crabby with everything to give her a proper explanation. Then Beth’s logical brain meets up with her normal one. _Oh. Judith._ It has to be for Judith. It’s always for Judith when it’s him. 

“Thanks for telling me,” she says, because Carl usually responds to at least a little bit of praise. This time it’s nothing, nothing at all but sullen silence. 

Beth will deal with that later. 

She makes it to the door, gives it a little glance. She can see the bulk of Daryl through the frosted glass on the other side. It looks like his back is turned; when she taps her knuckles on the frame he spins, one hand coming up on the glass. Beth, holding back a trembling smile, lifts Judith’s little hand so that she can place it in the shadow of his much larger one. 

“Beth?” the door muffles voices but she can hear the gruffness in his, same as always. 

“And Judith,” she replies, jostling the baby. “You doing okay out there?” 

“Yeah,” he says in a thick voice that makes it seem like he’s very much not. Beth bounces Judith, who is cooing. 

“Judith misses you,” she remarks, when he doesn’t seem to say anything else. She can talk enough for the two of them, that’s what her Daddy always said, so she does. “She’s been doing really good in here though. She’s walking a lot. Can’t hardly keep up with her sometimes. Had a good spill the other day, right on her little arm. Didn’t even cry or nothing, just looked at me with her stiff upper lip. Tough little girl. She’s gonna be real tough, Daryl. Lives up to your nickname every day. Don’t think we should keep calling her it though, at least not to her face, on account of her learning bad language and everything.” 

On and on she prattles. Tells him all about what Judith eats for snacks and what new words she’s saying these days and how she likes to sleep listening to Beth’s heartbeat. When all this is over, Beth is going to bring her to him at night, so that he can take a turn and Beth can get some proper reset, just like she always does whenever Judith goes through a sleep regression. Tells him about the other kids too, how she’s keeping them all busy teaching them lessons and making them do little skits and plays and whatever stupid things she can do to keep them from going even more stir crazy in here. 

And then she falls silent, because she doesn’t have anything else to say. 

“Beth,” he says softly, after a few minutes pass, the three of them sitting there with the door between them. 

“Yeah?” she asks, just as softly. 

“Thanks.” 

She’s not sure what for. Talking to him, bringing him Judith, providing some form of distraction. It doesn’t matter. He’s here and she’s helping. It’s the most useful she’s felt in days. “Of course.” 

“Gonna go. Gonna go get medicine,” he tells her and her stomach falls out. Goes plummeting down through the earth. She isn't surprised that he's leaving; it's what he does. They lost people when Patrick turned in the cellblock. Now they might lose even more to sickness. And Daryl can't stand that. She thinks of his face, the night he'd come to tell her about Zach, how she'd hugged him when she saw just how lost he seemed. She hates losing people. But she can't lose Daryl too. 

“How far?” she doesn’t mean to let some of the fear slip into her voice. It’s just there, before she can stop it. She hopes the door filters that out. 

“Far.” it’s only the one word. But Beth knows. She knows what it all entails. And she allows herself just a moment of pure, wild terror at the idea of losing him. Then she leans so that Judith is close to the door, so that he can see her blurry shape. 

“We’ll be here, when you get back,” she promises. Because where else would they be? 

He doesn’t say anything to that. He doesn’t comment on her use of ‘we’ instead of just Judith. He doesn’t ask her about anything. 

Just his hand, on the glass.

And then he’s gone. 

* * *

  
  
  


**Beth Greene lets Daryl Dixon see her at her worst, and she gets to see him at his best.**

_"I don't cry anymore, Daryl."_

That had been a lie. Beth stares at the massacre at the side of the tracks, nothing but blood and some guts left, and she had told Daryl that she doesn't cry anymore, not even after her boyfriend never came home, but that's a lie. She'd just been lying to him, to herself, to everyone. 

Beth cries now. 

She cries because they've lost their home. Their safety. Their food, their clothes, their things like that stupid little lawn gnome Maggie brought back for her birthday because she and Beth had that little inside joke about gnomes and baby Jesus. A stupid little gnome, but it had always made her smile. 

Beth could stomach that. Beth could take that blow and keep walking, keep going, keep moving. 

But now they've lost people too. 

And so Beth cries. 

She cries because how can it just be her and Daryl left? How can they all be dead - Rick and Carl and Glenn and Maggie and Sasha and Luke and Molly and Judith - oh, _Judith_ \- they're all dead. No one got out alive. Not any of them in the prison. And certainly not her Daddy, dead in that field or Michonne, probably still there beside him. 

Beth had been an idiot, having hope that everyone might have had to scatter but could have still been alive. Now she knows better. They're gone. They're all gone. Her family, her home, her everything. It's all gone and Beth might not have cried before but she cries now. She cries for everything that is and was, for all the grief that she's never allowed herself to feel that overwhelms her. 

She sinks to her knees in the hot, hard dirt, keening. She knows she sounds like a wounded animal of some sort, but she can't stop. She's opened something within her and it all spills out. She can't stop crying, she can't get a lid on herself, it's all too much. 

She could just lay down here. Wait for the walkers. Die and go to heaven and be with everyone there. It would be so easy to slip under and away, always.

"Hey." strong arms are under hers now, lifting her up and away from the gore. "C'mon Beth, c'mon." 

She doesn't know why he bothers. She's sure that out of everyone, he's probably disappointed that she was the one who survived, who made it out. Not someone who can help him. Can't aim a gun, can't draw his crossbow, can't wield a sword. She's just Beth. She's the babysitter, that's all. 

With no babies left to sit for. Because they're all dead and Beth isn't. 

Daryl holds her upright as she sobs. He holds her even as her legs give out, keeps her standing as she goes limp. Beth cries and cries and she knows that it makes her look weak but she can't bring herself to care because she is weak. She just wants her family back and now they're gone. 

Daryl doesn't say anything else. But he doesn't leave her either. He waits until she's completely empty, all her tears are gone. Then, slowly like he doesn't trust her, he puts her down so that she's standing on her own two feet again. He lets her go, eyes searching her face for something that Beth isn't sure she has. Then he nods like she's passed muster and turns, walking back down the tracks. 

What choice does she have but to follow? 

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon say nothing but see everything.**

Talking is too dangerous in the woods. It brings the walkers down on them, makes them more of a target. Besides, what else do they have to say to each other? It's not like Daryl was a chatty guy to begin with. He's even less so now. At first, the quiet had made Beth want to scream, just to fill it. 

Then she'd gotten used to it. Adapting, yet again. 

It would alarm Beth how quickly they slip into silence, if she had the capacity to even think about that. But she doesn't, beyond noting it in some vague part of her mind that she learns his hand signals like a second language, like it's one she's been taught. 

Hold up. 

Go forward. 

To the left. 

Walkers ahead - we'll take them - I've got these. 

Stay still. 

Behind you.

Go to sleep, I've got watch. 

Give me that.

Take this. 

Beth just watches him, the whole time, watching and listening. Daryl will keep her safe. Daryl knows what to do. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. 

They don't have a hand signal for that. 

* * *

**Beth Greene will see all of Daryl Dixon or she'll be damned.**

Beth can count the number of times she's fucked up very badly in her life on one hand. It's four, in total. 

There was the time when she was six and thought she could ride the skittish horse her Daddy was trying to nurse back to health. Beth had gotten thrown - hard. Broke her elbow. Maggie told her she was lucky it wasn't her skull, once Maggie had stopped sobbing long enough to get coherent words out. 

There was the time when she was nine and had decided that she wanted to listen to music, but neither Shawn or Maggie would loan her their CD players so Beth had gone into the garage with her mama's car and turned it on to listen to music. Mama had caught her before she'd passed out or killed herself, but it was a near thing. 

And of course, when she'd been thirteen and thought that it would be funny to sneak off into the woods. Not for any reason, just because she could. She'd been out there half the night and when she'd came home to her terrified father, she'd had the audacity to tell him he didn't really love her. It'd been teenage angst is all, but Beth never forgot the quiet disappointment on his face, the pain. It was worse than any shouting he could've done. 

Finally, when she was sixteen and sobbing, having watched her mother be cut down in front of her, with Shawn and all the other people she knew and loved in that barn. She'd been devastated, sure. But it was stupid of her not to check that everyone was really dead. Annette never would've struck Beth in life; the same could not be said in death. 

And the fifth? Well the fifth is this very second, standing outside some hovel in backwoods Georgia, holding on to the back of Daryl Dixon's leather vest, in tears but knowing that if she lets go, it's going to all get worse. So she holds the hell on. 

The moonshine had been the absolute stupidest idea. Beth had just needed a purpose, something to drive them forward. She always felt better when there was an end goal in mind, when there was something for them to work towards. Getting drunk seemed like an excellent goal at the time. But she hadn't been prepared for what it would unleash, in both herself and Daryl. 

Assuming he went to prison was a terrible idea. The hurt in his eyes - _"is that what you think of me?"_ \- had cut Beth down to the bone. Of course that isn't what she thinks of him. She thinks he is good. She _knows_ he's good. But the moonshine makes it hard to articulate it. 

His anger after that had made it even harder. His words are still ringing in her ears. 

_"Never eaten frozen yogurt."_ neither has Beth but that's not the point. 

_"Never had a pet pony."_ all the horses on the farm were for working, Daddy made that clear. 

_"Never got nothing from Santa Claus."_ and so her heart breaks for a little boy. 

_"Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything!"_ no, she knows he never has. He's built for this world because he was made that way - mean and tough and scary and Beth doesn't know how to tell him that she wishes he would - wishes he could - rely on her for something.

_"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun. Like everything was a big game."_ but she'd been singing for him. How did he not see that?

_"I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention."_

Beth has no retort for that one. 

Then he'd dragged her out, by her wrist. Hard. It'd hurt - not because it was painful, but because it was from Daryl. She had always been so sure that he'd never raise a hand against her. Never force her. But the moonshine had clearly broke him down just like it did with her, and when he pulled her flush with his chest, still managing to wield that stupid crossbow with uncanny aim even with her struggling against him, Beth had felt him tremble. 

So she'd screamed at him, all the wild and terrible things in her head that she had to accuse him of, had to get it out before it tore through her, hot and hard. _"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid."_

And then Beth's fuckup - truly spectacular to the point - managed to get worse. Because Daryl yelling at her is scary, but Daryl's face when it screws up into tears, when she sees the grief and regret and anger there - the break in his voice - _"The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me."_ \- and then Beth just gets her arms around him and holds on, head resting between the angel wings. 

Yeah, she's fucked up big time. And she doesn't know how to set it to rights. 

First though, she's going to hug Daryl like her life depends on it. And second, she's never drinking moonshine again. They're going to stay here, they're going to be okay, and they're going to talk about things. But first Beth has to make sure that he's alright. 

"Daryl," she whispers, arms tightening around him. She just wants to see his face. "Hey. C'mere." it takes some weird finagling, but she manages to get in front of him without ever removing her arms from around him. That's when his head falls on her shoulder and he cries, cries so hard that Beth realizes that of course he feels. He feels so responsible for this mess, for failing to protect them, that he's been in such pain. 

Beth doesn't blame him for lashing out. She doesn't blame herself either, but that doesn't mean that she didn't get them into this mess and it's her job to get them back out. So she holds to him and she cries with him because everything hurts so goddamn much - her grief for her family, her anger for the loss of safety, even her sympathy for a little boy with big, blue eyes and belting scars who brought her here. 

They get to cry. They should get to cry. 

At some point, she finds herself stroking Daryl's hair in a manner which always soothed her as a kid. Reminds her of her mama, whenever she'd been sick. It'd been nice. And Beth isn't sure how many times in his life that Daryl Dixon has been touched tenderly. He deserves it though. He deserves good things. Beth will make him see that. 

Someone has to. 

At some point, Daryl gets himself back under control. He straightens up and walks away from her like he's never been there at all, making Beth huff a little bit. But when she goes inside, she sees that he's trying to make amends. Two fresh glasses of moonshine - this stuff will kill her - and some food that he must've found. Beth takes her half and goes out to the porch. She doesn't want to be in that stupid trailer, thinking about a small Daryl Dixon just fighting to live at all. 

"Didn't mean all that," he mutters, sitting a decent ways away from her. Beth eats the stale chips without looking at him. If he's going to apologize, he'll do it properly. And that means waiting him out. There's a long pause before he speaks again, like someone is forcing the words out of him on pain of death. "You weren't looking for attention." 

"No," she says simply, "I was looking for a way out. I thought I was weak. I'd never last. But now I know better, don't I?" she glances at him but now he's watching the sunset without looking at her. 

"Yeah," he says finally, picking up his glass of moonshine. "We know better." 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Daryl Dixon has probably seen worst, but hungover Beth Greene isn't so sure.**

Oh. 

This is why Daddy stopped drinking. 

The hangover. 

Goddamn Daryl Dixon. 

They’re curled up in a little shack, having crashed here after the walkers were attracted by the fire. They’d still been drunk when they found it; well Beth was. Daryl might not have been. He’s hard to read sober. He’s harder to read drunk. Beth can feel his warmth next to her, but she doesn’t want to look to see if he’s awake or asleep or what. She just wants to stay right where she is, very, very still, and keep her eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“I know you’re awake,” comes a grumble from the vague direction of Daryl. 

“Shush,” she orders weakly. Has his voice always been so loud and grating? Has it always felt like someone is rubbing sandpaper over the folds of her brain directly? Like she’s being force-fed gravel? It’s a nightmare is what it is. “Too… Loud.” 

“What’s that, princess?” he asks mockingly. “Got a little headache?” 

“Daryl.” she knows she’s whining. She knows it. “Don’t.” 

He must be able to hold his liquor better than her. Or at least fight off a hangover better. Because he just snorts and laughs, like it’s not the crack of dawn in a hellscape of a world and Beth’s head is literally splitting apart, damnit. “Knew you’d be a real pussy of a drunk, after.” 

“Fuck off,” she mutters darkly. She’s not above violence. 

Well, if she could open her eyes, she wouldn’t be above violence. 

Something hits in her chest, something vaguely circularly and sloshing. Beth thinks ‘water’ but she doesn’t dare do anything to check. Even the movement of his tossing it to her has made her feel really queasy. And if she throws up water, their most precious resource, Daryl won’t be very happy. She keeps her eyes shut, but finds the water bottle and grips it. 

“Drink,” he orders, when she doesn’t move. “It’ll get better.” 

“I’ll hurl,” she admits reluctantly and he snorts in amusement but doesn’t mock her. 

“It’ll make it better,” he informs her. “Get it all out.” 

“Are you telling me to make myself puke?” she demands and he gives her a little nudge. 

“Yeah.” a beat, then two. “But over there.” 

Beth decides that there’s no pain worse than the pain she’s in now so she rolls over - away from Daryl - and opens her eyes to the bright new world that is a hangover. The new position brings up nausea, sure, and a stabbing pain in her head (maybe all walkers are just drunk?) but she manages to keep it together just long enough to crawl on hands and knees away from him. It’s completely and utterly undignified. 

Beth could give a shit less if it means she’ll stop dying for a minute. 

Turns out that puking does help. The nausea at least. Once her stomach is empty, it stops rebelling against her so badly. Her head is a different story; Daryl insistently pushes the water bottle at her until she does drink. Beth hopes that she doesn’t throw this up at well, but then Daryl hands her stale granola bars. 

“I’ll throw those up too,” she warns him weakly. 

“Nah.” he shakes his head. “You’re fine.” 

“Wish there was a magic wand I could wave and make this all go away.” she wishes the whole world would go back to rights. But she’ll settle for just fixing this hangover. 

“Merle had one of those,” he mutters and Beth’s head snaps up against her better judgement because she really, really doesn’t want to think about _Merle’s magic wand_ and — “Jager Bomb with an egg in it.” 

Beth doesn’t have much experience in drinking or hangovers or hangovers cures. But she has experience in being a human with human taste buds so she looks at him with horror. “That sounds like it’d be terrible.” 

“It was,” he confirms, nodding, with a tiny smile. “But it worked.” 

“You gonna get me a Jager Bomb with an egg?” she asks him, stomach heaving. He glances at her. 

“No?” 

“Then shut the hell up.” 

Beth does manage to get the granola bar down. They sit there in the shack, quiet, and Beth thinks that maybe he does have a hangover too. She takes a bit to get her bearings back, looking around with new eyes. That’s the other reason to never drink ever again. Walkers could have taken her down easily; she can hardly fight them off in the best of times, let alone when she feels like she’s two degrees from death warmed over. 

Camp, with cans strung up. Well, at least Daryl keeps his wits about them. And a few supplies from the golf course and the trailer, including a black bag. The one that he’d found at the country club, that he’d been shoving things into. No food or water though. Not even clothes. But money and jewels. Frowning, Beth opens it up before tossing it at him. He catches it with a grunt, glaring at her. 

“What?” 

“Why’d you take the money?” Beth asks him, eyes still screwed up against the light. “And the jewels?” 

For the longest time, she assumes that he won’t answer. He’s silent and Beth isn’t sure if it’s anger at her or the hangover or just Daryl being Daryl. Maybe it’s all three in a lovely, potent combination. But then he heaves a big, long sigh and grumbles something. Beth swats blindly until she manages to hit something soft; given the grunt, she’ll assume it his stomach. 

“Fuck, girl. I said fucking habit.” 

“Oh.” it’s not Beth’s fault that she can’t understand him when he talks like that. No one could make that out. Maybe not even Merle. “I thought it was weird.”

“Why?” he sounds defensive. 

“Cause money don’t matter these days,” she states like it’s obvious. “It’s just… Paper. And jewelry is just shiny rocks, same as all the other shiny rocks. None of it matters anymore. It’s not like it can buy anything for us. Not like we can trade it for guns or ammo. All that stuff from the old world, it’s just… Lost. Gone. No value, anymore.” she thinks it should make her sad. 

“Yeah?” she hears Daryl digging around, then something heavy and cold lands on her stomach. Beth gives little huff of air, cracking one eyelid to see a diamond necklace sitting in her lap. She picks it up to inspect it, trying to do so without fully opening her eyes. That will just make the hangover worse. “That’s nothing?” 

“It’s beautiful,” Beth tells him, because it is. Silver and diamonds, beautiful and intricate. Once, she might’ve only seen such a thing in a movie or a magazine, on the neck of some celebrity. “It’s beautiful but it’s not worth anything, anymore.” 

“You know how much that would’ve cost, before?” Daryl sounds bothered. “Enough food for me to last a year. Fuck, could’ve bought me my own goddamn trailer right next to Merle’s. Ain’t never seen that much money in my life, not before.” 

“Oh.” Beth understands it now. She should’ve seen it, before. That despite everything, there’s still some base part of them that remains. His desire for money, for wealth and status. It endears him to Beth in a way that she can’t quite speak on. “Well, now it’s for me, I guess.” she lifts her head up and secures it around her neck, twisting to look at him. “How’s it look?” 

“Mmm.” that’s all he’ll give her. But Beth sees the little smirk there. 

  
  
  


* * *

**Funny how all it takes for Daryl Dixon to see Beth Greene is a forest full of walkers.**

"Well, it's no mud snake, but it'll do," Beth jokes, as Daryl finishes skinning the rabbit. She's simmering some stew on the stove - a real, gas stove - while he's at the kitchen table. He'd found this place on a run apparently, with a decently stocked pantry. He'd decided that it would do for the moment, especially given that it's pouring rain outside. 

"Mhmm." he doesn't react to her jabs but keeps working. Beth stirs the pot, watching him work with a little smile. It's a weird sort of domestic life but Beth is coming to not mind it. It's nice being here with him, now that they've gotten some of their frustration out of the way. 

But without the simmering anger, it's a lot harder to resist the urge to say the other really stupid thing in her mind. Not about him having gone to jail - she's learned that lesson. Or about his childhood, or his brother, or anything about the people that they've lost at the prison. No, that other incredibly stupid thing.

_I love you._

Beth knows she can be an idiot sometimes, but she's not that dumb. 

"I was thinking," she starts carefully, "that you should teach me how to track. Or something." 

She's had the idea in her head for a while now. He's right - she relies on others too much. Her Daddy, Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carol, even Carl and Judith. She relies on Daryl most of all. Maybe she did even before this. But if this is it, this is really the new normal for them, then Beth needs to learn to pull her weight. And she can kill walkers, she can hold her moonshine (but never again) but she can't track and kill their dinner. She'd like to learn. 

"Something, hmm?" he asks pointedly and Beth flushes. It's a bad idea. He'll get mad. He won't want to do it. Any flimsy sense of friendship that has been building there, all the way from the farm to here, can still be destroyed so easily. And Beth is pushing it. 

"Just so that I can help," she tries to explain. "Not be so useless." 

Daryl is silent as he finishes the rabbit. Then he brushes past her to stir the pot and mutters, "you ain't useless." 

Beth smiles. 

Lessons begin the next morning, without any warning but that's just Daryl. He brings her to the woods and sets her in them, gesturing to the wide expanse of leaves and trees. Beth knows that this is the first test, so she sets her shoulders and tries to mimic what she's seen him do. 

Look at the ground. Look at the branches. Look at the sky. 

It'd be easier if she had any sort of idea what she was looking for. 

"Here?" she asks, when she gets to a fairly large stick snapped in half. It couldn't have been done by anything small, so perhaps by a larger animal or a human? 

Daryl grunts. Beth assumes that's as good of confirmation as she's going to get so she presses forward. 

Beth had always assumed that tracking was all about prints in the dirt. She'd imagined that Daryl just followed a bunch of tracks, literally, until it ended with the animal standing somewhere. It was impressive, sure, but it wasn't like it was really all that hard. 

Beth had been wrong. 

It's hard. It's _so_ hard. 

"No," Daryl says flatly when Beth points in one direction. 

"Then it spontaneously combusted." she throws her hands up. "Tracks end, Daryl." 

"Tracks end, trail don't," he mutters, going in the opposite direction. Beth follows with ill grace, muttering the whole time, until Daryl stops her and she sees that of course he's right, of course he is. There stands a turkey. The twang of the bow goes from Beth's left and then the bird drops. 

"Thanksgiving," Beth remarks, impressed as always with him. He grunts and goes to grab it, handing Beth the crossbow. She holds it, fully expecting him to take it back when he returns with the turkey. She offers it when he passes but he just shakes his head and keeps walking. Beth is so surprised she forgets to do so for a minute, then abruptly startles to her feet. "Uh, Daryl?" 

"What?" 

"Your bow." it's not quite as heavy as Beth imagined but it's not light either. And it's bulky, not long and slim like a gun. She has no idea how to hold it or shoot it. 

"Yeah." he keeps walking, not even glancing back. 

"You want it back?" she demands. Learning to track is one thing. Holding his crossbow, the item Beth knows damn well never leaves his side, not even when he's sleeping? That's a whole different issue. "I can't shoot it." 

"Oughta learn," he remarks and she gapes at him. What the hell has gotten into him?

"I'll never be able to draw it," she counters and he snorts. Beth knows she's right - he can barely draw the thing, even with his arms. Not that Beth has spent a ton of time looking at his arms, except for when she has. 

"I did it already." 

"Oh." she looks at the thing, indeed already notched and ready with an arrow in it. 

"Don't fucking shoot me," he warns her and Beth finds her palms are actually sweating. 

"Yes, Mr. Dixon." 

They make it back to camp, where Beth finally gets to drop the thing with relief and Daryl starts plucking the turkey clean of feathers. They don't stay in towns long - more walkers and more risk of running into people. After everything, Daryl isn't inclined to be trusting. So they flitter about the edges, grabbing supplies when they find them and then heading back into the woods. Beth knows it's where Daryl feels better. 

She gets a fire started as he plucks the bird and then starts to butcher it. Beth once preferred ham to turkey at Thanksgiving but beggars can't be choosers, she supposes. Daryl seems thrilled with his work, practically grinning by his standards. Beth is grinning - they'll have a good meal tonight. 

"There," he says with satisfaction when it's roasting. 

"Thanks," Beth tells him honestly, "this is amazing." and it is. She waits in the silence with him for a bit. There's been a question there, nagging in the back of her mind for awhile now. She knows quite a bit about his childhood - probably more than anyone else, if her suspicions are correct. But she can't quite put it all together. 

He's younger than Merle. Merle was not the greatest influence growing up. Merle left him and tried to join the army. His father beat him and shot things inside their house, chain smoking and making moonshine and god knows what else. His mother burned the house down with her in it. His father is dead now too. Merle took him in after that. Merle nearly got him killed at least a few times. And then everything turned. 

It sounds like a horrendous childhood. Beth has seen the scars. But there must have been at least some good parts to it, since he cried when Merle died. And he said his dad taught him to hunt, which must have been something. At the very least, it serves him well now. 

"G'on," he orders and Beth glances at him. He's watching the roasting turkey, but Beth knows he's referring to her. She blinks, opening her mouth to ask him what he wants, but then he cuts her off. "Can see the question in your eyes. Ask." 

"Oh." god, does she hate that she has such an expressive face and he's just such a good read on her. She shifts around uncomfortably, but now that Daryl has a pin in her, he's not going to let her go. So with no shortage of trepidation, she asks him carefully, "I was just wondering about your dad teaching you all of this." 

There's a long pause and Beth is pretty sure Daryl is going to take off into the sticks and she'll never see him again. But then he gives his funny little one shouldered shrug and mutters, "weren't too much him, I guess. Merle mostly." 

"Really?" Merle, while not the best topic in Beth's experience, is a hell of a lot safer than his dad. "He taught you?" 

"Sorta," he mumbles and Beth rolls her eyes. Really, sometimes she thinks that it'd be easier to carry on a lively conversation with a walker. 

"Tell me about it?" Beth requests, which is a bold move. Every time she's talked to him about his past, his upbringing, it's devolved into yelling and crying. And Beth is pretty sick of both of those things. But luck is on her side, and Daryl starts talking as he shifts the bird. 

"Merle's way older than me," he tells her and Beth doesn't mention that she already guessed that, back at the prison. He's talking; she sure as hell isn't going to interrupt. "Dad taught him first, so he started teaching me. Well, more like dumped me in the fucking forest and told me to figure it out." 

"Sounds hard," Beth remarks darkly, thinking that she can at least relate. 

"Didn't have no one to help me," he retorts and Beth blinks in surprise. 

"Merle left you? Out there? All alone?" 

"Not just out there," he huffs and Beth sits back slowly against a tree. Now that, she hadn't considered. 

"How old were you?" she asks, knowing the answer will make her winch and still feeling sick to her stomach when she hears it. 

"Five? Six, maybe? Course, he went to juvie after that for a minute. By then, my dad'd figured out what he was doing. So he decided to teach me." 

"How'd he do that?" Beth asks, thinking that there can't be any teaching worse than Merle Dixon's method. 

She should stop underestimating the Dixon family, in all the ways. 

"Gave me a knife, told me to go with him. Knocked me with his rifle butt if I didn't get it. Learned fucking quick." Daryl kicks the dirt and reaches up to rub a spot just behind his ear. Beth's heart aches. "Half the time we were hunting on someone else's land. Had to be fast or we'd get arrested. Started with rabbits. Worked my way up to deer." 

"Always with a bow?" she questions, because the idea of him having a tiny crossbow is entertaining somehow. 

"Nah." he shakes his head. "Gun's cheaper. Ammo too. Got my bow when I was thirteen. Merle brought it back for me. Fuck, probably stole it from someone. Didn't give a fuck. Liked it better than a gun. Could practice without waking anyone up." 

Beth has a sudden flash of a young boy with shaggy black hair and welts on his back, sweating in some trailer with a dirty tank top and baggy jeans (still with a red rag in the back pocket because that's just Daryl) picking up a crossbow to aim it at some trailer's dilapidated walls, taking aim and loosing the bolt before scrawny arms pull the string again. 

"You got good." what more is there to say for a guy who can put a broad-head through the eye of a walker at 50 feet? 

"Had to." the firelight reflects interesting shapes in his face. "Mama died, dad couldn't be bothered to do shit for me anymore. Hunted for my own food. Learned how to cook it. Didn't bother coming home if I didn't have to." 

_Made for this world,_ Beth thinks but doesn't dare say. "And where'd you learn to fix cars?" 

"Merle," he mutters again. "Couldn't afford anything nice, just bought the shittiest things he could find. Had to get them up and running if I wanted to go anywhere." and Beth can imagine he did, wanting to escape so badly it ate him up inside. 

"Got good at that too," Beth says softly, thinking of the cars and such he'd brought back. She has a sudden pang of longing to see Merle's bike again, nazi stickers and all. 

"Yeah. If I wasn't such a fuckup, maybe I'd've been a mechanic." he stares off into the darkness of the night with a small frown, but Beth feels her mouth twitch. 

Maybe once, he would've been the mechanic at some shop, greasy and dirty, and she'd have been some small town sweetheart with a smile and a song. She'd have brought him lunch and they'd listen to music and sit in the sun and talk, just talk. It wouldn't be just surviving, it'd be living too. Beth wishes for what might have been. 

"You'll learn," he tells her and Beth thinks that she's already learned so much, there's nothing more to be crammed into her skull, but then he bends over the fire. "C'mon, let's eat." 

The next morning when he gets her up, Beth barely has time to open her eyes before the crossbow is shoved into her arms. Apparently he means that she'll learn right now, this very instant, so she takes the thing with minimal grumbling and tries to hold it like she's seen him do. He lifts an elbow here, moves a shoulder back there, then gives her a nod. 

So Beth pulls the trigger. 

"Jesus fuck!" he ducks away from her, covering his head, before peeking back up. 

"What?" she demands, heart pounding. It's one thing to shoot a gun. It's another to shoot a bow, to feel the power of the arrow being launched forward with such speed. "You nodded!" 

"Didn't mean fucking shoot!" he takes the crossbow from her then appears to slow his breath down with considerable effort. "The fuck you aiming for, anyways?" 

"That!" Beth gestures to the biggest tree trunk - she'd thought that has been the target, that's why he'd nodded. 

"Christ girl." Daryl stalks off to go retrieve the arrow and Beth can't help it. She laughs. She laughs like she's never laughed before and it's good and warm and happy and when Daryl comes back, he even gives her a tiny smile. 

"Sorry," she apologies and means it. "I want to learn. I do." 

"Don't fucking shoot," he orders, handing her the bow again. 

"Wait, Daryl, you didn't draw it," she tells him and he doesn't look back. But the cocking rope hits her square in the face. 

Well, she'd asked.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**It’s the candlelight that best allows Daryl Dixon to see Beth Greene.**

Daryl is securing the perimeter, just like Daryl always does. Beth is off checking out the rest of the house, limping a little bit less now that Daryl has wrapped up her ankle tightly. The rest of the funeral home is as clean and tidy as the kitchen, but empty. Just mattresses upstairs on the beds, no clothes hanging in the closets or dressers. Empty bathrooms, empty closets, empty everything. Beth thinks it’s odd, but maybe the people who stay here take everything when they leave. 

Beth doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Especially if that gift horse has a piano. 

Beth finds herself drawn to it despite everything. She should go check on Daryl. She should go see if there’s any more medical supplies, more food, more whatever. But Beth hasn’t played a piano since the farm. She sits at the bench slowly, reverently. Holding herself still, she thinks of her Daddy. 

_“Sing Paddy Reilly, Beth.”_

"In my memory I will always see, the town that I have loved so well... Where our school played ball by the gasyard wall, and we laughed through the smoke and the smell. Going home in the rain, running up the dark lane…” 

Beth’s throat closes up as the tears choke her. She can’t think of him as dead. She still can’t. So she stills her fingers over the black and white keys, until she can control herself. Then she rises, takes out Daryl’s lighter, and begins to light the candles around the room. For each one, she mutters a name of someone that she’s lost. 

She worries there won’t be enough candles. 

Then, once she’s surrounded by the soft light, she sits back down at the piano. 

She’ll just play a song she knows then. One she remembers from before, an odd sort of melody that gets stuck in her head whenever she looks at Daryl. 

“-pine for summer. Then we'll buy... A beer to shotgun, we'll lay on our lawn… And we'll be good... “ 

"The place is nailed up tight. The only way in is through the front door.” Daryl’s voice makes her jump. She spins, looking up at him, almost guiltily. He’s just telling her how it is, wandering into the room like it’s nothing. But his words from before - they still sting. She’d sang for him and apparently he’d hated it. Or maybe he hadn’t known how to feel about it and had reacted with anger. That seems to be his default. There are more pressing things to consider now - the first being that Daryl is climbing into the casket like it’s a suite at the Four Seasons.

"What are you doing?” she demands of him. 

"This is the comfiest bed I've had in years,” he remarks dryly and Beth narrows her eyes slightly, never able to tell when he’s teasing or not, knowing what she does of his home life.

“Really?"

"I ain't kidding,” he answers and Beth sighs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She waits for him to chide her for lighting so many candles, for playing piano, for something, but then his voice comes from the casket. "Why don't you go ahead and play some more? Keep singing."

Beth stares at him, a hundred questions on her lips but only one comes out, a teasing sort of jab. "I thought my singing annoyed you.” 

Daryl appraises her for a long moment, his face half lit by the candles. Beth feels her heart start to squeeze the way it always does around him, like he’s somehow managed to get a hold on her before she could stop him. She wonders if he feels the same way. In the candlelight, she imagines that he might. "There ain't no jukebox, so…”

She holds back the temptation to smile, slowly turning back to the piano. Well, it’s no Led Zeppelin. But maybe he’ll hear the lyrics and understand. Maybe he’ll know. 

“--and we'll buy a beer to shotgun… We’ll lay on the lawn... and we'll be good. Now I'm laughing at my boredom, and my string of failed attempts…"

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**It’s when Beth Greene can’t see Daryl Dixon - that’s when she knows it’s bad.**

“I’m not leaving you!” 

She says it. 

She _means_ it. 

She runs out of that stupid house and she knows it’s for the best. She’s hurt, she’s slow. It’s best to get out of his way, make it so he doesn’t have to worry about her. He can take care of himself. He can do this. Beth knows he’ll do this. He’ll get back to her. He has to. 

And when he does, Beth is going to say it. She’s going to tell him. She’s going to stop hiding it. She has to, because he’d listened to her sing and then swept her off her feet to bring her to the kitchen, telling her it was because she was too slow. But Beth had felt the way his arms had tightened around her. Felt his heart thudding. Felt everything. 

_I love you._

Because she has, she has for so long and it’s there. He’ll be scared but Beth is done being frightened. She’ll hold his hand. She’ll hold on tight. If they’re all the other has in this world - if they are all that’s left - Beth isn’t going to waste any time. She’s going to grab him, hold on tight, and show him that there’s more to living than just surviving. He thinks there’s good people in the world - he’d looked at her and seen her and all she’d been able to say was _‘oh’._

She just needs him to get out of that stupid funeral home, that stupid trap. 

She bounces on the balls of her feet, trying to see him. 

_I love you._

_I love you, Daryl Dixon._

_I love you, Daryl —_

She’s so busy looking for him, she doesn’t see the car speeding over the hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER YOU GUYS ARE GONNA HEAR ME RANT ABOUT CARS i have a preliminary rant in the latest chapter of 'it's going to take you people years to recover from the damage' but next week whoo boy it's gonna be a real rant
> 
> also catch me out here foreshadowing the 10.16 scene with daryl and judith cause their relationship stays ruining my life
> 
> DO YOU HAVE ANY SCENES THAT YOU HOPE/WANT TO SEE IN THE DARYL FIC?? 
> 
> reviews are my lifeblood not even being dramatic


	7. Beginning Anew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. i will not ranting about the cars until the closing notes. 
> 
> i will say that this chapter deviates from canon by fixing the plothole of 1) beth going along with a stupid ass plan and 2) noah abandoning her like a dick and takes place within the 'slabtown/consumed' episodes 
> 
> if you want to read me solving the plothole of the worlds tiniest scissors, check out the latest chapter of 'it's gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage'
> 
> everyone got that? okay. great. let's get busy.

**Daryl Dixon sees Beth Greene. Oh, does he see her.**

“Noah,” Beth says politely, because she’s a good girl whose Daddy raised her right, with proper southern manners. “I like your ideas. And you did a really good job getting us this far. But… Your plan is shit.” 

“What?” Noah looks affronted. 

“Trust me,” Beth says, sweet as pie, “I spent a real long time out in the woods with a couple people who were really good at plans. Just hang on for a few days, okay? Let me think.” 

Beth means what she says. She didn’t grow up attending the Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon University for Plots and Plans for nothing. Noah’s idea to go out through the basement is a good one, but with too many risks. And alone, unarmed, and helpless? Beth won’t risk it. Not this. They’d have to steal weapons and get down the elevator and through that basement and then into the yard and then through the city of Atlanta and back into the wilderness to who knows where Daryl and her family might be and — 

No. She needs a better plan. _They_ need a better plan. 

And Beth thinks of it, up on that roof with the doctor, staring at what was. 

“Hey,” Noah says, when Beth pretends to be folding laundry with him. 

“The cars,” she says, without wasting breath. “What do you know about them?” 

“Uh, not much,” he admits. “Cops got the keys. Gorman and the others.” 

“Do they have weapons in them?” Beth asks urgently and Noah looks around, making sure everything is still clear. 

“Maybe. Not a lot. They keep them on themselves, mostly.” 

“How do they get it and out of the hospital safely?” 

Noah sees where her mind is at and slowly lights up. “They got a secure garage. Heard Dawn bitching about it once, saying that they had to keep replacing the batteries in the clicker for the gate. They keep them in the cars.” 

“Okay.” this. Beth can work with this. She takes a second, takes a deep breath to calm her mind down, to tamp down the hope that keeps growing in her chest, so wide and wild. Her heart beats in two-step. Dar- _yl._ Dar- _yl._ Dar- _yl._ “Okay Noah, this is what we’re gonna do.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Getting the keys from Gorman turns out to be a disaster with a spot of luck. Disaster in that when she lured him into Dawn’s office he’d taken the opportunity to try and feel her up and Beth’s throat had closed up in a panic and then the jar of lollipops was smashing and Joan was eating him and Beth was trembling from head to toe because this was all so fucked but…

Spot of luck because the keys to the car are now tucked into Beth’s little white cast. 

“It’s gonna have to be soon,” Beth whispers to Noah, who she goes to get a fresh set of scrubs. He takes one look at her stained shirt and her shaking hands and just nods. Just nods. Beth’s hands tighten on the keys, safely away in her cast. 

Soon. 

* * *

  
  
  


Beth can’t breathe. Her chest is so tight that it actually hurts her. She can feel her heartbeat in all her pressure points - her wrists, her temples, her chest. Beside her, Noah is panting slightly. Beth wants to tell him to shut the fuck up but she can’t talk for fear. So they creep down the hallways in silence, down the route Noah promised is how cops get to the garage. 

Beth is going to lose her mind if it’s not. 

“Holy shit,” Noah whispers, when Beth pushes the door open to the garage. “Holy shit. Holy shit. That’s sunlight.” 

“Noah,” Beth says patiently, “shut the fuck up. Which car was Gorman’s?” 

“Charger.” Noah points to it, tucked in the back corner. They creep for it, Beth on high alert for anything. Anything at all. But if she can just have this one thing, this one thing, she promises any higher power that she’ll never ask for anything again. 

Beth slides the key in the lock. Unlatches it. Opens the door. Unlocks Noah’s side. Puts the keys in the ignition. And reaches up to where the garage opener used to be in her Daddy’s truck, like she’s 16 again and going out for a Sunday drive. The gate at the end of the parking ramp begins to roll back slowly and Beth drives them out, her heart in her throat as they emerge into the weak light of the early morning. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“We have to ditch the car,” Beth tells Noah, even though he’s not listening. He’s looking out the window, muttering _‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit’_ over and over again, but talking through next steps makes Beth feel in control. Makes her feel better. Makes it seem like old times, when it might have been Daryl in the seat beside her. 

Except Daryl would never let her drive. 

“Holy shit,” Noah says for the hundredth time. 

“Hey!” Beth says sharply and he turns to look at her, face full of wide, panicked eyes. “We gotta ditch the car. They’ll see it’s theirs, it’s just a beacon. Search the back. Take any weapons. Take any supplies. Noah. Do it now!” 

“But the walkers.” he looks outside at the blank streets. 

“I can deal with them,” Beth promises him grimly, “just get me something sharp.” 

The search of the backseat turns out to be more fruitful than anticipated. One long, sharp knife and a rifle. Beth could cry. Such bad luck lately - her Daddy, the prison, the bear trap, the funeral home, the whole fucking hospital - Beth just needs a little bit of luck. She can do the rest. She _will_ do the rest. Beth gives Noah the gun and takes the knife for herself and wishes like hell there’d been a crossbow back there. And a granola bar. 

Christ but she is hungry. 

“Are you sure?” Noah asks her, as Beth pulls into a parking garage. She hopes like hell that this will at least camouflage the car for a minute. 

“Yeah.” she’s not though, she’s not sure of anything at all. She wishes with everything in her that Daryl was here, but he's not. And he'll be counting on her to get back to him. “Get out, watch for walkers. I’ll find something to cover the cross, okay?” 

“Yeah.” Noah is jumping like a live wire. 

“Then we have to get weapons,” Beth tells him, because it’s easier to have a plan. It’s easier to be thinking about a plan instead of her fear, the fear that is mounting and mounting and mounting. “Something quieter than guns. We need knives and bows. Then we can look for food and shelter until we can get out of the city. Are you listening to me?” she demands and Noah looks at her, positively vibrating now. 

“Weapons. Bow and knives. Then food,” he pants and Beth isn’t sure how much reality he’s retaining but it’ll have to do so she nods and then puts the car in park. After a second, both she and Noah spill out, Beth with the knife up, ready for anything. 

The parking garage is clear. Beth sends Noah to go scout while she scavenges for what she needs, which turns out to be a tarp wrapped around the belongings atop someone’s car. Winching with the amount of noise she’s creating, she cuts it loose and then a suitcase too, for good measure. Maybe she’ll be lucky again. 

“Noah,” she hisses, approaching him from behind. He turns, shaking, with the gun up and Beth simply waits for him to lower it. She points back to the car, now covered with a tarp, then at herself, holding out the broken suitcase. It didn’t hold anything great. No weapons, no food, no medicine. But it has clothes that aren’t scrubs. And Beth never wants to see scrubs again in her life. 

They undress and redress in silence. It’s a ridiculous getup - Beth is in a pink dress and a jean jacket, but that was all that would be able to fit her in there so she makes do. Noah sheds his shirt and adds a sweatshirt, but is forced to leave his scrub bottoms on. Doesn’t matter. Maybe this is enough to help them blend in a little better. 

“What the fuck do we do now?” Noah asks her, hefting the gun up on his back. “Steal a car?” 

“No.” Beth shakes her head grimly. She’s thought about this too. “We’re the only people in the city trying to steal a car and get away. They’ll see that, gun us down or hit us with it. It’ll be bad. Nah. We gotta go on foot.” 

She misses Daryl so much she’s starting to talk like him. 

“Fuck.” Noah is still shaking and Beth just wants him to calm down. But then he does still. “Wait. There.” 

“What?” Beth goes to the opening but doesn’t see anything. 

“I saw two people. Guy and girl. Girl has some knives, I think the guy had some kind of bow.” Noah looks up at her, light in his eyes. “That’s what we need, right?” 

“Right.” if Beth wasn’t beyond desperate, she’d waffle at the idea of stealing weapons from people. “You see where they went?” 

“This way.” Noah leads and Beth follows, head going back and forth. 

It’s not just the dead who are a threat anymore. 

“Hold up.” Beth says, when Noah follows them to a little skyway that leads into the building. “They go in there?” she gestures to the padlocked door. 

“Yeah,” Noah nods, staring in horror at the dead bodies on the floor and the walkers, trapped in the tent. 

“Okay.” Beth’s mind is whirling and she readjusts her grip on the knife. “Okay, Noah, this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to stand here. Gun up. I’ll be down here.” she crouches behind the tent, nerves tingling. “When they come back through, you keep the gun up and tell them to drop their weapons. I’ll come around and pick them up, okay? Just hold the gun up. And try not to shoot if you don’t have to.” 

“Okay,” Noah agrees, shaking again. “Yeah, okay.” 

Beth crouches down behind the tent, on the balls of her feet. Her heart is still racing, racing like she and Maggie used to do in the pasture and Beth wishes that her chest would loosen up just a little bit, the adrenaline would slack off just a tiny bit, because Daryl had told her that if she’s jumpy she’s a shit shot and all that’s keeping her holding on by a thin, thin thread is Daryl Dixon’s voice in her head. 

She hears the chains on the doors rattling and somehow manages to tense up even further. Not a bad person. Just desperate. Just desperate. And so Beth prepares to rob someone and then - 

“Daryl, don’t.” 

Beth’s whole world stops. Stops, just like that. Just that fast. But not fast enough, because Noah is ordering, 

“Get up!” and Beth’s legs are numb and she can’t stand because her legs have gone numb so she just leans forward, to make sure that her brain isn’t trying to deceive her, isn’t short circuiting and conjuring up ghosts of the past to torment her because she knows that voice. She knows it. And it can’t be. “Hands up, both of you.” 

Beth can’t speak. Beth can’t speak because Beth can’t believe what she’s seeing. Beth has lost it because that’s not Carol, kneeling there to put down her gun. And that’s not a crossbow in the gap between the doors, the crossbow that she knows better than her own face because she’s spent so much time with the stupid thing. And that arm, that lone arm sticking out, still holding that goddamn crossbow. 

Beth Greene would know Daryl Dixon’s arm at a hundred yards on a foggy night with a blindfold on.

“Noah.” her voice trembles. “Noah, _wait.”_

Carol freezes. Noah looks at her with unrestrained panic, gun dipping down ever so slightly. But the arm in the door. That’s what Beth is looking at as she finally gets her body to obey her brain and she stands up. Carol makes a noise that sounds like she’s sobbing and laughing and Noah is hissing her name, demanding to know what’s going on but Beth doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything other than that crossbow and the hand holding it. 

Beth’s heart is done racing. It’s done racing because it’s stopped. 

Daryl emerges clumsily through the gap, stumbling and squeezing himself with ill grace. For second Beth can only note a few important details - leather jacket, as always. Long hair, messy and greasy. And the look on his face. For as long as Beth Greene lives, she will never, ever forget the look on Daryl Dixon’s face. 

It’s like he’s seeing her for the first time. 

Beth drops her knife with a clatter. Doesn’t even hear the voice in her head that screams at her that she should not drop her only weapon in this state of utter chaos with walkers around her. And that’s when she realizes that Daryl has dropped his crossbow too, that precious thing that is only ever out of his reach when it’s within her grip and that seems important somehow but Beth can’t dwell on it. Can’t dwell on anything, anything at all because Daryl. Daryl. _Daryl._

She can’t move. She’s rooted to the ground. And that’s just fine because she doesn’t have to. Daryl is coming to her, three big long strides is all it takes and then the impact with him drives all the air out of her lungs but she doesn’t need it because she’s breathing him in, fingers scrambling for purchase on those angel wings on his back, her angel, and her legs are wrapped around him because she doesn’t trust herself to remain standing on them, and her face is buried in his neck to smell him, the sweat and rot and smoke and Daryl. 

Daryl. 

_Daryl._

“Daryl!” apparently Carol is talking to them but Beth can’t hear anything over the keening in her throat - or is it coming from him? Does it even matter? “Daryl, don’t kill her.” 

That’s when Beth realizes that he’s squeezing her so tightly that she really can’t breathe and for a second she doesn’t care - let them be, _just let them be_ \- but then Daryl releases her ever so slightly and Beth clings as tightly to him as she can because no. She’s never, ever, never in a bazillion years, letting him go. She’ll just stay like this, a koala or a parasite, hanging on him till the end of time. 

“Beth!” Noah’s voice is starting to strain and crack. “Beth, who the hell are these people?” 

“We’re friends,” Carol promises him and Beth thinks that she should say something, to reassure him, so that Noah doesn’t set off the gun and kill them all or bring wakers down on them or the cops which is a hundred times worse. But all she can do is hold to Daryl. Nothing else matters. “I’m Carol. That’s Daryl. He’s…” 

“Daryl?” Noah says in disbelief. “The Daryl?” and then Beth recalls that she did tell Noah about Daryl, when he’d asked her why she was so confident that she could face down all the walkers. She’d told him, grimly, that her man was a teacher named Daryl Dixon and that he was the best there was. “The Daryl that she thinks puts the sun in the sky each day?” 

That’s what seems to break Beth and Daryl out of their stupor. Beth has some vague sense of embarrassment because she knows how badly Daryl hates being complimented and also because she doesn’t want him to know her secret, like he can’t guess by the way she’s got her face pressed so deeply in his neck that it’s like she’s trying to press herself through his flesh and become one with him. 

But Daryl smiles. He smiles against her cheek, she can feel it and it makes her smile too. 

“That’s the one,” Carol says, with a hint of dryness. “Just… Give them a second.” 

_Give them a second._

Beth doesn’t want another second. Can’t stand another second not looking at him, at her Daryl so she pulls her head back and pressed her forehead to his and realizes this whole time that Daryl has been muttering something, quiet and steady. She tries to listen, trying to calm herself. It’s her name, over and over again. “Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth…” 

“Hey.” her voice is working now. “Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. Hey.” 

“Mhmm.” he turns his head deeper into her neck and she’s startled to see that he’s crying. Tears tracking two clean paths down his cheeks, into his scruff. 

"Did ya miss me?” she asks him, tears in her own eyes now and his arms somehow manage to wrap even tighter but Beth doesn’t feel the pain, doesn’t feel anything beyond the fact that she can breathe again, because she’s back in Daryl’s arms and she could cry. She wants to cry. She can cry. Now. She can cry. 

“Hey.” Carol’s hand is gentle on her shoulder. Beth wants to shake her off but she doesn’t because she knows Carol doesn’t mean them any harm and that she has a point - they need to move. But Beth just needs another second. One more second. One more endless, glorious second of nothing but Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon. 

He found her. He found her. She found him? He found her. They found each other. She’s never going to let anything get between them ever again. She holds on to that precious hard head of his and smoothes away those tear tracks and curls her fingers in his hair so that she can see his eyes, those lovely blue eyes. She sees him. He’s right there. 

“Beth, we gotta move. They’re going to be coming. They’re going to be looking.” Noah’s panicked whisper is now nearing a panicked yell and that’s what does it for her honestly. That’s what brings her back out of it. She needs to keep Noah safe. She needs to keep Daryl safe. She needs to get them all the hell out of here right now so she allows herself another second - really, this is the last second - to press her forehead to Daryl’s like that’s somehow going to transfer her sense of relief and adoration and joy to him. 

“Okay.” she pulls back from Daryl. Bends down, grabs her knife. Sees that Carol has gotten the crossbow for Daryl and is pressing it into his hand. “Okay. We need to get out. Fast.” 

“We know the way back to where the group has camp,” Carol says briskly as if it’s every day that she finds long lost, old friends in a skyway in Atlanta surrounded by the dead. “But we’ve got walkers and cops out there.” 

“Believe me, the cops are more dangerous,” Beth tells her. “They’re what we need to worry about.” 

“They’ll know we’re gone.” Noah looks out at the sky. “It’s been long enough, they’ll have done rounds and came up short. They’re looking. Trust me.” 

“We ditched the car, covered it as best we could,” Beth tells them, “but they’ve got a dozen or more vehicles. Cop cruisers. Vans. I dunno how many they’ll send. But we have to sneak out. They’ll be looking for us, they’ll run us down if they have to.” she involuntarily lifts her cast-encased wrist. 

“So we get a bigger truck,” Carol says, like that’s obvious and then they spring into action. 

Daryl doesn’t let her hand go their entire trek back into the parking garage. He keeps them in formation, sure, and has one hand on his bow, as always. But in the other is in Beth’s hand, and she hangs onto him as the last tether she has to this world. They, Carol, and Noah keep creeping along, until Carol finds what she wants. A cargo van. She pulls a dead body from the front seat like she’s removing groceries, then pokes her head into the cab and climbs in to try to turn over the engine. 

It sputters but doesn’t start and so Daryl goes to the front of the truck, lifting the hood and he lets go of Beth’s hand only so that she can press her back to his, watching and waiting for something. Anything. Her nerves tingle and fizz, but all she has to do is press against Daryl and it calms her down. They’re going to be okay. They’re going to be okay. Daryl sparks some wires and the engine turns over and - they’re going to be okay. 

"C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Noah cries, pulling Beth into the cab of the truck and Carol is driving and then Daryl’s behind her and Beth’s only choice is to practically sit on his lap. But she doesn’t care. She’d never care, not if it means that his arms are anchored around her and Carol is pulling out onto the street. Daryl’s hands on her hips and they’re driving, driving through empty streets with the dead moaning on the side of them. 

Beth doesn’t dare hope. Beth doesn’t dare dream. It’s been luck after luck after luck and somehow it’s going to run out. She’s trying to listen to Carol, who is explaining everything that’s happened (Beth thinks she’s misunderstanding her when there’s something about cannibals?) but she cannot take her eyes off the road, because her luck is too damned good and then — 

“There!” she cries, seeing it before the others do. Roadblocks had been up on all the other exits, so this is the only way in or out. And Dawn must know that, or at least her officers, because there are two cop cars to block the exit and four officers standing there with guns raised and pointed at them and Beth wildly thinks _fuck, fuck, fuck, they —_

Daryl abruptly dumps her off his lap and she falls into Noah’s with a grunt. She looks up to demand what the hell he’s doing when — 

Daryl is hanging out of the truck. Daryl fucking Dixon is hanging out of the mother-fucking truck. He’s clutching the handle on the roof with one hand and has the gun in the other, and when he begins to fire, it’s not so much with aim but rather gusto, spraying the bullets in front of the cops as they dive out of the way. Carol accelerates and Beth’s heart seizes up again because Carol’s aiming directly for the gap between the cars but it’s not big enough to get though and if Daryl doesn’t get his ass back into the cab this instant he’s going to be decapitated or worse and —

The crunch of metal on metal is impossibly loud in Beth’s ears. She wants to squeeze her eyes shut and clamp her hands over her ears but that’s not an option, not when her mouth is filling up with blood from her biting her tongue from the impact and her head is pounding from where it’s smacked the windshield. Then she’s back in Daryl’s arms, flushed tight against his chest. He’s lost the gun and has a cut dripping blood on his face. But he otherwise seems unharmed. 

“Oh my god.” Noah sounds giddy. “Oh my god, we did it. We made it out. We made it out.” 

“I,” Beth tells Daryl, both her hands on the side of his face, speaking in a very even tone despite the painful thumping of her heart, “am going to kill you if you ever pull a stunt like that again, Daryl Dixon.” 

He has no answer for her, but his hands tighten on her waist. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Beth’s beginning to get a little bit worried. Not with their escape. No, that’s gone beautifully, if that’s what can be said for the smoking wreckage of the van now on the side of the road. But they’re a decent ways away from Atlanta. And they’ll go the rest of the way on foot, to not alarm the group and to be a little bit more inconspicuous, just in case Dawn really wants them back. 

No, the escape is great. A few miles of hiking through the woods, doubling back, covering their tracks, and Beth will get to be reunited with everyone that she loves. That’s great. And Noah is free too, which is also great. Everything is perfect. 

Except Daryl hasn’t said a goddamn word to her since they’ve seen each other. He’s still holding her hand - hasn’t let it go, in fact. Sometimes he squeezes it so tightly that Beth loses sensation in her fingertips. And he keeps looking back at her, eyes wide and mouth jumping the way it does when he has something that he wants to say but won’t. Beth wouldn’t even mind if it was the crudest, rudest thing imaginable. She just wants him to say anything to her. 

“Hey.” she gives his hand a little tug to get his attention. “Daryl. Daryl. Hey.” 

“Hey, Noah, let’s take a look at your leg quick,” Carol offers, when they pass by an old stump. “I’ve got a few things in my pack. We’ll clean you up quick before you meet the rest of the group. Make a good first impression.” 

Beth could kiss the woman. As it is, all she can do is throw her a thankful look that Carol returns with a curt nod and then Beth drags Daryl a few more feet into the forest. He looks around them, once, then twice, but there’s no snarling or hissing of walkers. It’s just them. And that’s why Beth takes his hand and brings it up to her cheek - the unscarred one - and says quietly, “Daryl, what is it?” 

He doesn’t answer her. He just stares down at her with eyes that don’t blink and it bothers Beth a little that she still can’t read his expressions for shit before he mumbles something that Beth, for all her talents at decrypting redneck marble-mouth speech, cannot make out. He looks up at her, sees her confused expression, clears his throat, and then says, a lot more clearly, 

“Missed you something bad.” 

Beth will be damned if she doesn’t want to break apart on the spot. She nearly does. She throws her arms around him yet again and just hugs him, just takes a fistful of that leather jacket in one hand and his hair in the other and lets herself cry. All the emotion, everything that she has been holding so tightly to her chest, she lets it right out. She holds tightly to Daryl and cries, cries so hard it’s a miracle her chest doesn’t crack in two. She’s put it through a lot lately. 

“I knew you’d come for me,” she finds herself muttering in his ear. “I knew, I knew you would. Noah said he wanted to escape, I figured we could use the car to get out. I had to get back to you, Daryl. I just had to. I knew you’d be out here, looking for me, fighting through everything to get to me. But I ain’t weak and I ain’t helpless. I figured out a plan. It was a good one too. You’d be proud. I got out. I got Noah out. I _found_ you.” 

“Fuck.” Daryl’s fingers are digging into this stupid jean jacket but Beth can’t shut up, can’t stop the flood of words anymore.

“I found you, Daryl Dixon. I found you because I’ll always find you. I’ll keep coming back to you. You’re the only thing that matters. I just need you Daryl. I just need you. And… I love you.” 

There. Cards on the table. All laid out, nice and neat. Because what the hell else are you going to say to someone who risked life and limb to come get you? And Beth has loved him for a long time. Surely since the prison, where he’s watched out for her and teased her and cared for Judith with her. Maybe even before that, when they were running all over Georgia and Beth went to sleep at night knowing that he was right there. Or maybe all the way back, to the first time he’d come up the lane at her Daddy’s farm and she’d seen that bike and that scowl and she should’ve turned tail and ran but she hadn’t. 

It’s one thing to find your soulmate. It’s quite another to do it during the zombie apocalypse. 

Beth doesn’t even realize that Daryl’s lowering his mouth to hers until he’s just about kissing her and Beth gasps, mostly in surprise but also in delight and so Daryl freezes. It’s Beth who crosses the scant inches between them, pressing their lips together in a kiss that starts off timid and then grows to be anything but. 

Daryl’s hands slide up into her ponytail and he’s backing her against a tree. When she collides with it, Daryl’s knuckles bear the entire brunt of the impact and she can’t breathe, can’t focus, because all that was and all that will ever be is right here, is Daryl Dixon and the way he tastes like sweat and unfiltered water and tobacco and just Daryl. Beth is going to scream his name from the rooftops until the end of time. Daryl Dixon. 

Her hands are in his hair, his hands are in her hair and they’re both panting against each other, Beth stretching up on the tips of her toes so that she doesn’t lose one glorious inch of him against her and he’s got her pressed so firmly into the tree that the bark will leave an imprint on her skin. And it’s not until he’s kissed her so senseless that Beth doesn’t know up or down anymore that he finally backs off, giving her room to breathe, staring down at her. 

Beth tries to catch her breath and read his expression at the same time because kissing someone after a very romantic rescue is one thing but it’s quite another to hear a declaration of love from that person. Beth just watches him, waiting, waiting for his reaction and promises herself that she’ll take it, whatever it may be. 

“I dunno what love is.” 

Well, that’s just about the most Daryl Dixon thing he's ever said. 

“Sure you do,” she says easily, staring at his lips and wondering how few words she can get out before he’ll cover hers with them again. “It’s what you feel when you hold Judith. It’s what you feel when you roughhouse with Carl. And it’s what drove you to come all the way to Atlanta to come get me, because I needed you.” Daryl might think that he doesn't know what love is but Beth knows he does. She'll just teach him how. 

“That it?” he asks, eyes darkening, looming over her again and Beth holds onto the tree to stop herself from dropping to her knees. 

“You love me, Daryl Dixon.” and she knows he does. Maybe he always has, since the shack where she told him to put it all away, that he was better than that because he’s the last man standing. Maybe since the prison where she’d been the one to try and make him see that he’s worthy of love and admiration. And maybe, just maybe, since that first moment he drove up to the farmhouse and saw her there and thought that she was a girl who’d never survive this world but he’d be damned if he didn’t want to help her try. 

She knows because the way he’d grabbed her in that skywalk is the same way that she’s seen Glenn grab Maggie. Or Sasha grab Tyreese. Rick, with Carl or Judith. It’s the way you grab the person that you love most in the entire world and hold them close after almost losing them because they are the only thing that’s important. Love is the only thing that matters in this world. It’s the only thing that keeps them moving. 

And Beth loves Daryl. And he loves her. 

“Simple as that,” he mutters and then he kisses her again, kisses her so hard that Beth forgets everything. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The cries of her family - her found family, her forever family - sends Beth to her knees on the ground. She stays right there and lets them hit her, all at once. Michonne. Rick. Carl. They end up as a tangle on the ground, all of them laughing and crying and Beth is breathlessly asking after _Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, where is Maggie_ and then Rick hauls her to her feet and Beth’s arms are suddenly filled with a baby. With Judith. And Beth would collapse to the ground again if not for Daryl’s arms wrapping around her, keeping her on her feet. 

“I love you,” she whispers to the baby, but she really means it to all of them. To every single one of them. She loves them. She loves them all so much. Her heart feels like it’s going to explode with the force of it. 

“Maggie’s going to DC - there’s a cure - on a bus - Eugene - we just need cars.” Michonne is talking to them and Beth is trying hard to listen, she is. But nothing matters more than having Judith in her arms and having Daryl's arm around them so Beth's mind shuts off and she just stands there, completely content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I PROMISED A RANT ABOUT CARS AND HERE IT IS. 
> 
> 1\. WHY WERE THERE WALKERS AROUND THE CARS? HOW DID THE COPS GET TO THE CARS IF THERE WERE WALKERS?   
> 2\. WHY DID BETH NOT STEAL A CAR? SHE KNOWS HOW TO HOTWIRE THEM, DARYL OBVIOUSLY TAUGHT HER  
> 3\. WHY DID NOAH LEAVE BETH BEHIND AND THEN IMMEDIATELY TURN AROUND AND TRY TO GET HER BACK LIKE DON'T BE A DICK IN THE FIRST PLACE NOAH
> 
> anyways grady was bullshit, beth lives, i hate scott gimple, please leave me comments?? NEXT WEEK IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF THIS AND THE FIRST CHAPTER OF DARYL POV HOLY SMOKES


	8. This Is Our End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW WHAT CAN I SAY BUT HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU HUMANS
> 
> this fic was my first venture into TWD and Bethyl and now it's nominated for a moonshine award and urgh you guys are the greatest. thank you. thank you times a million. 
> 
> may i present to you.... as happily as an ever after we could get with this show

"He ran two days after you." Carol's voice is gentle from in front of Beth. She glances over at the older woman, smiling as her fingers gently comb through Daryl's hair as he sleeps in her lap. 

It's the first time he's slept since getting her back. Beth had crashed hard at the church, exhaustion and adrenaline a double-punch to her system. She'd slept in a pew beside Daryl and when she'd woken up it'd been to Noah telling her that Sasha and Carol were back, they'd found cars, and they were going to follow the other group to DC. Daryl had been awake that entire time, watching over her, letting her use his vest a pillow, and always keeping his hand held tightly in hers. 

Noah is driving, with Carol navigating them on their journey to reunite her with Maggie and the rest of their group. Beth and Daryl are in the backset. Daryl had lasted maybe two minutes before Beth had nudged him until his head was in her lap. The second she started lightly scratching his skull, he'd sunk into a sleep so deep Beth is actually a little concerned that it could be a coma. 

"I figured he might," Beth whispers, staring down at him. He's something beyond special, this man. She's not sure how he ended up loving her like she loves him (she imagines it goes Judith, moonshine, crossbow, Grady) but she's thankful as hell for it. "The whole time I was there, I knew I could count on one thing. He'd be trying to get me back. That he'd do anything to get me back." 

"When you said there was someone coming for you, I didn't realize it would be these two," Noah mutters and Carol glances at him. 

"What's that mean?" she asks with one eyebrow quirked and Noah's eyes dart to her, then to the line of cars in front of them like he's scared to let them linger for too long. 

"That you're scary as fuck." 

"Thank you." Carol sounds pleased while Beth quietly snorts in the backseat. 

"Must be nice though," Noah says with a wistful tone in his voice and Beth gives a little hum, fingers lightly skimming the scar under Daryl's eye. "Having people who love you enough to burn a whole city down to get you back." 

"We have to be a family out here," Carol is explaining, while Beth simply devotes her time to memorizing every line of Daryl's face. "We have to stick together, we have to do things for the good of the group. We can't be selfish. I know everyone thinks being out here forces you to turn into your worst self. And that might be true. But it can make you into your best self, if you let it. And that's what you'll have to be if you join our group Noah. You'll have to be selfless, because that's what we all are. That's the only thing that keeps you alive out here, with us." 

"Beth saved my life," Noah says lowly, deeply. "She risked everything to get me out of that hell. I'll do whatever she says. I'll go wherever she tells me to. Because I trust her." 

"Good." satisfied with that answer, Carol faces forward. 

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure if I look at her the wrong way, I'll get an arrow through the eye courtesy of Legolas back there," Noah mutters under her breath and Beth can hear the smile in Carol's voice when she says, nonchalantly, 

"Probably." 

They drive in silence for a little bit longer, before the tail-lights flash in front of them. Noah slows, frowning, and Carol leans forward to try to see something. Beth does the same, holding Daryl's head still so that he doesn't wake up if it's going to be nothing. Then she sees the firetruck on the side of the road and sighs, knowing that it's definitely something. 

"Hey." she leans over Daryl's face, kissing his forehead. "Hey, Daryl, wake up. I think we're here." 

She knows he's going to wake up in a panic, so she pulls back a bit, gives him room to sit up, makes sure that his crossbow is on his lap right where he wants it. Those blue eyes fly open with a snap, alert at once and he sits up abruptly, looking around. Beth squeezes his hand so that he knows she's there and after a second, the tense hunch of his shoulders release some when he gets her within his sights. 

"How was your beauty sleep?" Carol asks Daryl with faux-sweetness as Noah nudges the car up to join the group. Daryl mutters something unintelligible but very uncharitable and then demands,

"The fuck's going on?" 

"We're about to find out," Carol mutters but Beth doesn't care what's going, could care less about anything, because - 

"Maggie!" Beth is out of the car before it's even fully stopped, racing for the person on the side of the road. Maggie turns, frowning, like she doesn't quite believe the sound of her voice, before Beth throws herself bodily into her big sister's arms.

"Beth?" Maggie sounds dazed, either from the impact or the shock. "Bethy?"

"Holy shit, Beth?" now Glenn's joining their hug and Beth is laughing, just a little bit beyond hysterical, as Maggie strokes her head and then demands, 

"What the hell are you wearing?" 

"Lost my boots. And my knife." Beth isn't sure which she's most upset by. "Got kidnapped, taken to a hospital. Daryl and Carol got me back. Noah too." 

"Who's Noah?" Glenn asks, ever the pragmatist, while Maggie just stares blankly at her, hand on her cut and stitched up cheek like it's all a dream. 

"What the hell happened?" Rick demands loudly, gesturing to a prone man on the ground with a mullet and then Beth realizes that it's not just them; there's a dozen or so people surrounding them and then everyone's voices start to overlap again. 

"No cure --" 

"Beat him --" 

"-- still go to DC?" 

"--and all the supplies burned, so--" 

Beth stays within Maggie's grip but reaches her other hand back without looking. She knows he'll be there. And sure enough, rough fingers slide in with hers and lock. Beth sees Maggie's eyes go there, then come back to her with some concern in them but Beth doesn't care. 

Once all the stories get untangled (Beth hadn't been mishearing Carol when she mentioned cannibals and that's terrifying) and introductions are made (Beth is going to start forgetting names soon) and then a plan is hatched that if there's not cure and there's no point in going to DC and there's nothing left for them here in Georgia (Beth still wants to get as far away from Atlanta as possible) then they'll go with Noah to Virginia and try to start a new life there, try to start fresh. 

Beth doesn't care where they go. She's got her family back around her and Daryl's hand tangled with hers and that's all that matters. 

  
  
  


* * *

"So." Maggie corners her on the first night, just like Beth figured she would. "You got something to tell me?" 

"Sure." Beth is changing Judith's diaper, still unable to believe that the little girl made it out of the prison safely. Beth isn't sure what she's going to do for Tyreese yet but it's going to have to be big. "Whatcha wanna know?" she could tell her about Atlanta, about Grady, about the prison, about the weeks on the run, about anything at all. But she knows what Maggie's really asking after and she's not going to give her the satisfaction of bringing it up. Maggie going to have to come right out and say it. 

"I wanna know why Daryl Dixon is hanging onto your hand like his whole world is gonna fall apart if he lets go," Maggie says quietly, taking another step towards her so that the rest of the group doesn't overhear. Beth snaps Judith's onesie back into place and lifts the little girl up, smiling widely at her. 

"Because I love him and he loves me," Beth states simply, setting Judith on the floor of their safe house for the night, watching as Judith sways for a second then rights herself. She's gotten so much stronger since the prison. It breaks Beth's heart a little bit, the little milestones she's missed in their weeks apart. 

"What?" Maggie has been silent for a few moments; now she's looking at Beth like she's grown two heads. Or that she loves Daryl Dixon. One is likely stranger than the other. 

"You really think he'd go all the way to Atlanta if he didn't?" Beth looks at her and there's a surging river of emotions in her because she's so glad Maggie is alive - she is - but Maggie also went to DC and it doesn't matter if it was a trade done at gunpoint. Beth thought she could always count on her big sister to get her back. And that's not there anymore. But Daryl? 

Daryl is always there. _Always._

"I mean, I knew that you two were together after the prison. When we were trapped at Terminus, he said you two got close, but--" 

"Close," Beth echoes with a tiny hint of a smile, thinking of crossbows and pigs feet and moonshine. "Yeah, I spent a day and a half straight locked in a trunk with him. I don’t think it can get any closer than that, Maggie." 

"Beth. It's Daryl," Maggie says desperately, like supposed to do something and Beth blinks at her. Once, she might've yelled. Or raged. But she's only a day or so out from escaping her worst nightmare and finally getting to hold Daryl's hand and not just survive but live and so she finds it within herself to ask Maggie in a fairly calm voice, 

"What's the matter with Daryl?" 

"He's..." Maggie trails off, her gaze lifting to the man himself, who is skinning the two rabbits he bagged them that will go over the fire to join the canned food that Tara found rolling at the bottom of this house's pantry. 

And then Beth sees as Maggie sees it. Sees Daryl. Sees that while he's a little crude and a little dirty, and certainly much older than she is, that he's not the same guy that drove up their driveway on a bike. That he risked everything to go to Atlanta, that he was the one who brought Beth back. That this is the end of the world, that life as they know it is gone forever and there's no chance of it coming back, so who else was she going to fall for, really? If she's going to survive this world, it'll be because she's got Daryl. And so Maggie simply says, "oh." 

Beth smiles and kisses Judith's cheek and then she rises, going to deposit the baby with Carl so that she can crouch by Daryl and kiss his cheek and hear the spluttering noise Glenn makes and the laughter from Rick and Sasha saying something about it being bad enough already with Rosita and Abraham. Daryl doesn't say anything - doesn't even grunt - but when the attention is off them again, he squeezes her knee. 

And that's enough. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


"You know, I always thought it'd be me," Carl tells her conversationally as they walk through the woods towards the stream with the bottles on their back. 

"Yeah?" Beth responds, without asking what he's referring to, because they both know it can only be one thing. 

"Yeah. I mean, we're closer in age," he remarks with a smile and Beth smiles back because while he has a point, if anyone understands how little age matters out here it would be Carl. "And we were always together, at the prison, cause those other kids didn't really get it. But then when you disappeared, I realized that you're like my big sister." 

"I never had a little brother," Beth tells him honestly, "but I like to think that I get to have you as one." 

"You do." Carl flushes. "And Judith too." 

"Judith too," Beth agrees, though Judith occupies a strange space in her heart, halfway between her own baby and her little sister. 

"Besides." Carl kneels when they reach the stream, sticking the water bottles in. "It's not like I'm going to be able to fight him for you or anything." 

"No." Beth laughs, hefting the crossbow and scanning the woods for any sign of movement. "No, probably not." 

Beth knows that she shouldn't enjoy shocking everyone so much. She just can't help it. Their expressions are too good. When they'd pulled off to the side of the road to stop for a bathroom and navigation break, Beth and Carl had volunteered to go get water from a nearby stream. Without looking, Daryl had slung his crossbow off his back and thrust it at Beth, eyes on the map. 

Daryl Dixon could have gotten her a 14 carat pink diamond ring with a matching tiara and crooned romantic ballads in the moonlight and Maggie still would think that he's only in it for sex or something else unsavory. But when Daryl Dixon hands her his crossbow, without fuss or fight, and Beth slings it on with ease like it's her favorite jacket, everyone looks at them like they've eloped or something.

Maybe, in a way, they have. 

"You think there's anything left in Richmond?" Carl asks, once all the water bottles are full.

"Have to hope," Beth responds because if she doesn't hope she'll lose her mind all over again. "There's something for us, somewhere." 

"You know, I think I get why he loves you." Carl falls into step with her, both of them heading back for the cars. 

"Why's that?" Beth has her own ideas, but it's fun to hear from others. 

"Because he keeps us safe when we're trying to get somewhere. But you're the one telling him where to go." 

Beth likes that answer. She smiles when they make it back to the cars, their group stretching their legs and moving around, teasing and grumbling the whole time. Rick and Daryl are still puzzling over the map but he looks up at the sound of her footsteps, zeroing in on her in a second. It's taken a few days, but he's starting to trust her being out of his sight again, so long as it's not for more than just a few minutes here and there. Beth smiles at him and shrugs the crossbow off, handing it to him with a brush of her lips to his ear. When she pulls back, she sees the blush on his cheeks. 

Maggie still looks like she's going to force them apart, ground Beth, and send Daryl to his room. Beth would like to see her try. 

* * *

  
  
  


"C'mere." Daryl opens his arms when Beth wanders over to him. Rick says it's the last night in the forest. Tomorrow they'll reach Richmond. Beth doesn't mind. She likes the wilderness now. It reminds her of Daryl and anything that has to do with him is a pretty good thing in Beth's book. 

Daryl is sitting against a tree, taking the first watch, looking out into the trees. He has a blanket wrapped around him and when Beth snuggles into the space between his legs, he folds it over her like a little tent, nice and cozy. She can feel the crossbow against her side as she rests her head in the nook between his shoulder and neck. They've both discovered how neatly she fits there. She thinks that Daryl likes it just as much as she does.

It'd been a bit of a funny thing to realize, actually. She had thought she would have to pull every bit of affection and touch from him. And she'd been fine with that, with knowing that Daryl didn't know how to accept gentleness. But the exact opposite turned out to be true; Daryl seems to be addicted to the little gestures between the two of them. He likes to hold tightly to her hand. He likes to rest a large palm on her back or waist. He likes when she leans her head onto his shoulder or stretches up to kiss his cheek. After a lifetime of harshness, he seems to relish the chance for the softness between them.

"I love you," she tells him, like she always does, and he grunts in response like he always does. Maybe once it would have bothered Beth, that he never says it aloud. Now she likes it. Likes that he tightens his grip on her and keeps one hand on the crossbow and Beth knows that words are shit in this new world but actions are everything and Daryl will destroy everything to keep her safe. 

That's bigger than love anyways. 

He doesn't wake her until his watch shift is done. He hoists her up in his arms and Beth sees that Abraham is the one to relieve him, winking like he knows what they're going to do but he doesn't. Daryl just carries her to a quiet corner of their camp and then they both lay down, Daryl half covering Beth with his body as he pulls the blankets up over his shoulder and presses his nose to the back of her head. 

One night, Beth had gotten up to go pee. She'd thought Daryl would sleep through it, only to move one inch away from him and have him wake up grasping her wrist and looking so scared she'd simply thrown her arms around him to hold him close, bladder be damned. Now she doesn't try to go anywhere without warning him first, especially if it's when he's asleep or just waking up. 

She'll elbow him awake before the first light of dawn, when everyone is still fast asleep. That's the only time they get any sort of privacy without risking safety and so Daryl will pull the blanket a little bit further over their heads and Beth will push herself flush with him so that she can kiss him, kiss every inch of his perfect face. From the scar under his eye (Merle accidentally hit him with a wooden baseball bat and it never healed right) to the one of his forehead (bar fight) to the one below his lip (his father had a mean right hook) and then to his eyes, his lips, his everywhere.

They haven't had sex yet. Daryl doesn't want to because funnily enough he's sorta an old fashioned romantic and refuses to fuck her in the forest like some animal. And Beth doesn't want to because she's sure Maggie will hear and she likes Daryl's head to remain on his shoulders. So they wait. And Beth kisses him like he's the last bit of air in this world and Daryl holds her like he'll fly off this planet if he doesn't and that's enough. 

That's enough. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Beth Greene trusts and believes there are good people in this world still. 

She just happens to trust and believe that the good people left in this world as the ones beside her and that's it. 

But she'll follow Daryl anywhere and Daryl follows Rick and Rick has brought them here, this ragtag group of survivors. Beth understands why Michonne wants this so bad. She thinks that they've been gone too long, they've gone too wild, that if they don't get somewhere safe and walled that pretty soon they'll lose it all together. But Beth has been somewhere walled off, and it wasn't safe. So she holds tight to Daryl's hand and promises herself that she won't run, not if Daryl doesn't run with her. 

And they walk into Alexandria together. 

Beth doesn't trust anything or anyone. Beth doesn't trust the big, pretty houses and the solar panels and the wall. Grady had all that too and look what it was. So when the lady comes with a cart and a smile to collect their weapons, Beth keeps a tight grip on hers. She'd lost her knife back at the hospital, her gun sometime before that. She'll give up her rifles but her new knife is one of Daryl's and it won't go anywhere. 

It's almost amusing, watching them shed their weapons. Beth watches as the woman grows more and more alarmed with the sheer amount on them. Everyone has at least two guns. Sometimes more than a few knives. Abraham even has a grenade that he's been hoarding, just in case. At the end of it all, the cart is piled high and both the women from Alexandria have rather strained smiles. 

They all keep their knives on them. And Beth isn't the only one who chuckles when Daryl refuses to give up his crossbow and Michonne her sword. 

And then they're brought to houses and told they can shower and get changed and brush their teeth and drink water not filtered with a dirty tee-shirt and Beth is trembling, slightly. If this is like Grady... There, she'd only had Noah to lose. Now, she has everyone else as well. She has Carl and Maggie and Judith and Daryl to lose and she will not ever let that happen. 

"Showers, all of you," Maggie orders, pointing to them. "Even you, Carl." 

Beth lets the others go first. She's sitting on the porch with Judith, near the door, trying to think of all the different escape routes. Daryl sits behind her, toes lodged under her thighs so that they're touching, crossbow at the ready. He doesn't talk much about the time they spent apart. And she hasn't told him everything about the hospital just yet, but that time will come soon enough. 

But he's told her about the cannibals. Shaking, shivering, eyes squeezed shut, he told her about kneeling in front of a trough, waiting for a baseball bat to the head and his throat to be slit. And there is no amount of comfort from Beth that can erase those memories. So they sit here and wait and protect everyone within. 

"Hey. You two." Carol sticks her head out the front door, her grey hair drying and her skin back to being clean and smooth. "You're up in the shower. I got Judith. Sasha can be on watch with me." 

"Thanks." Beth stands and hands over Judith, nodding when Sasha takes up Daryl's perch. 

"You up next?" Maggie asks from her place in the kitchen when Beth walks in and she nods, Daryl not more than a step behind her. 

"Make sure he goes with you," Glenn remarks idly, inspecting books, and then shrugs when Maggie glares daggers at him. "What? It's probably the only way we know he really will shower. And I'm sick of stinky Daryl." 

Beth takes Daryl's hand and brings him upstairs. 

They do shower together. The crossbow doesn't come in with them but it's a near thing. He leaves it hanging on the towel hook where it's easily accessible and then climbs into the steaming water with her and Beth holds him, just holds him, and they don't do anything. They can't, not when they're so on edge. But she gets him clean. And he washes her hair since she still has that stupid cast on. And then afterwards, when they get dressed, she innocently hands him a button-up roughly his size and giggles when he growls at her and tears the sleeves off. 

"I'm gonna wash that vest," Carol declares to him, when they're all together. Beth wonders if the angel wings will whiten. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


"And you are?" Deanna asks her kindly and Beth sits in the chair, hands looking like they're folded in her lap. In reality, they're curled around the handle of her knife. 

"Beth Greene, ma'am," she says politely. "I'm 19 - I think - and I'm from Georgia." 

"What do you do in the group?" Deanna asks with a motherly smile and Beth thinks of what Daryl had said, what she already knows. They'll see you as weak. It'll surprise them when you're not. These people, with their video camera and their limited understanding of how the world works now, they will underestimate her. She likes that. It makes her feel a little bit safer. So she puts on her most disarming, farmer's daughter, church choir, sweet Georgia peach smile for this woman and her camera. 

"Mostly just the babysitter. I take care of Judith a lot, on account of her mama being dead and all. Settle her when she's fussy. Carry her. I'm no good with guns, ma'am." and it's not a lie. She's getting better with a bow. 

"I see you've been hurt," Deana says sympathetically, her eyes flickering down from Beth's scar to the cast on her hand, "yet it looks like you've received medical treatment." 

"I was kidnapped," Beth tells her bluntly, fingers tightening on the knife. "I was taken away from Daryl and brought to a hospital in Atlanta. I was just fine before they took me. They hit me with a car and took me there." 

"Why?" Deanna's eyebrows bunch together and Beth could laugh, except there's no humor anymore. She really doesn't know what's out there, what people have turned into, what things they do now. 

"They liked to have power over you. Forced you to do things, said it was because you owed them and needed to pay your debt." Beth keeps her gaze steady, to show that this isn't something she's making up or being dramatic about. "But you could never pay back that debt. They hurt and raped people there, because there was nowhere else for them to go. But Noah and I got out. We got back." 

"Well." Deanna looks rather impressed. "We have an infirmary here, pretty well stocked. And a doctor. We could see about getting that cast off, and taking those stitches out. It looks to be pretty decent work too, but it's a pity that it'll scar." 

It's not the worst scar Beth has. Not by a long shot. But still, she says with feigned gratitude, "thank you." 

"We have a school here," Deanna reveals, like this is going to be what makes Beth relax, bring a smile to her face. "If you like kids, we'd always be happy to have you as a teacher." 

"I never finished high school, ma'am," Beth tells her with a little smile. "Not sure how much help I'll be." 

"If you can teach them to count and sing their ABCs, that'll be more than enough." Deanna laughs but Beth doesn't laugh with her. 

"I'll think it over," she offers, because she's not doing anything that brings her too far from Daryl. Especially not now, when she just got him back and they're in a place that maybe, just maybe, they can build a future in. 

"We'd be glad to have you," Deanna promises her and Beth's fingers remain curled tightly around the knife even as she gives her a sweet smile. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


"Beth." Rick doesn't even look surprised to see her when they gather at the old house, near the junk pile. Neither does Carol for that matter. Beth stays quiet, hand in hand with Daryl. Her wrist, now free from the cast, still feels a little odd. But she's glad to have both in working order again. Means she can get back to properly working the crossbow again and can use both hands to hold to Daryl. 

"I know, she knows," Daryl states with a shrug. Like that's it. A formal declaration of just what this is. Not a fling or an over-reaction to a separation but a true, real, genuine relationship. An enduring partnership. 

"No one else then. I want them to make a go of it," Rick orders after a pause and Beth wishes she could smile. Wishes she could just teach little kids their letters without thinking about weapons stockpiles and escape routes. Wishes she could sit in that house with Daryl and make him dinner with Judith on her hip and at night she'd read a book while he falls asleep in the bed beside her and it would be good and easy and fine. 

But Beth still thinks that all the good people in the world are the ones in their family. And Beth wants this place to work for them. But even more than that, Beth wants to keep everyone alive. And if things go badly, if there's even a hint of anything here like Grady, Beth won't hesitate to do what needs to be done. So she stands besides Daryl and holds his hand and promises to make a go of it, but only with him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Beth always thought her first time would be in her Daddy's barn, because that's where Maggie's first time was and she always said it was so magical, sunlight slanting through the beams and dust floating around and the smell of hay. It'd been perfect, on an old quilt, in the heat of May. And so awhile, that's how Beth pictures it happening. 

Then the walkers come. 

And so Beth thinks that she'll never have a first time, because Jimmy is dead and they're on the run and the world is too fucked up to allow for things like virgins having sex. It's about survival, it's only ever about survival, and Jimmy didn't survive and Carl is just a kid and everyone else is an adult or freaking undead, so Beth keeps moving and doesn't think about things like that anymore. 

Then they find the prison. 

And so Beth assumes that her first time will be in a cell or the guard tower, because that's where everyone else is having sex. Zach asks her too, but Beth can't. She wants to. But she can't. Because even with the supply of condoms that Maggie shows her, even with the expired Plan B that is hidden away, just in case, Beth can only think about Lori. Lori and Judith. Maggie, hands covered in blood, shaking. And Carl, finger still on the trigger, without flinching. So Beth shakes her head and says no. 

Then the Governor arrives. 

And Beth goes back to assuming that she'll die a virgin because she's with Daryl, who seems to hate her, hate that she's the only who survived, hates that she's here and not Rick or Carol or Judith, that it's just them. And when they scream and cry at each other, drunk and angry and grieving, she's sure that there's never going to be anything but simmering resentment there. 

Then Beth thinks, for the briefest of possible moments, that her first time will be in a funeral home. 

Beth is wrong. Beth is so, so wrong. Her first time isn't in a barn, or a cell, or a forest or a funeral home or a hospital or a car or a moonshiner's shack. 

It's in a house, in a bed, in the middle of a thunderstorm. It's with Daryl, because who else, and it's in the pitch black of night that she turns to him and takes him by the hand to the bedroom upstairs. It's empty, because their whole family sleeps on the floor in the living room anyways, everyone within reach of everyone, but Beth needs to be out of their reach, just for a second. 

It's here that Daryl finally says it. Says "I love you" before she's even touched him. Repeats it between their kisses, breathes it over her skin, tells her over and over and over again, _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou,_ as they sink down onto the bed and Beth pulls his vest off (Carol never did get the wings white again) and he pushes her clothes off. 

And then it's them. Just them. With crashing thunder and flashes of light and Beth's hands roam over his scars (one day she'll go back to Georgia to dig up Will Dixon's grave and kill him again herself) and his arms (she knows them so well) and fists her hands in his hair (never going to cut it) and rocks her hips up to meet his. 

He goes slow. He takes his time. Beth isn't sure if that's for her sake or his. But he loves, _oh god does he love,_ and Beth wants to throw her head back at the pleasure of it but she can't because her face is buried in his neck so that she can hear him whispering to her the whole time, that he loves her and loves her and loves her and loves her. 

Beth isn't scared. Beth can't be scared anymore. Not when she has him. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They hold hands, laying in the meadow beside the house. Beth squints up at the big blue sky above them. It's peaceful. It's easy. She thinks about Glenn and Maggie having a baby here. About Judith growing up, being safe, being easy. She lays there and wonders, idly, about a baby for her and Daryl. 

She doesn't say a word on that subject though. It's too peaceful to chase Daryl down the streets right now and talk him down from that particular panic attack. 

"Think it's good?" he asks her quietly, as a bird wheels high above them. 

"It's not the others," she reflects quietly. And it's true. Alexandria isn't perfect. But it's not Grady or Terminus. They could make it work. They _can_ make it work. She can be a school teacher and he can be a hunter. It could be normal. They could be normal. 

Except the whole reason they're in the meadow in the first place is because if they spend another minute in some house, they're both going to explode with tension. 

Michonne thinks that they were out there too long. Beth wonders if she wasn't out there long enough. 

"Aaron wants me to be a recruiter like him." 

"I know," she replies softly. "He asked me first. Said he figured that the best and smoothest way to you was through me." 

_"Pfffft."_ Beth's mouth twitches at the noise Daryl makes in response to that information. "They think I'm soft?" 

"I don't think any of us are soft anymore," she decides sadly and he's quiet for a minute. 

"Told him I wouldn't go without you," he mutters, tangling his fingers with hers. It's a declaration of love and they both know it. 

"I told him that too." Beth turns her head to smile at him in the grass. "Do you want to go out there?" the unspoken is there. That they're safe here. No worries about walkers. No struggling for food or water. No encountering the evilest parts of society. 

"You?" he asks her without answering the question, in his most Daryl Dixon-way. Beth sighs and goes back to looking at the sky. It's the only way she can forget the walls and that suffocating way that they seem to close in on her, smothering her and reminding her that _nothing comes for free, everything has a price, you must give when you take and --_

"I never finished my tracking lessons," she says instead and feels him turn to brush his lips on her shoulder, smiling slightly. "Never had peach schnapps. Never gutted my own deer. Never had my own crossbow." 

"Careful girl or you'll get drunk," he mutters and Beth turns her head so that they can brush lips. 

"Always am, with you." 

After a few more kisses, they both turn back up to the sky and look at it, silent. Beth knows that he'll make up his mind soon. And whenever he does, Beth will go with him because she loves him and that's just how things have always been. She'd once told the kids back at the prison that this wasn't Pride and Prejudice. 

Nah, this is Jane Eyre. And their cord of communion is no red thread but a bowstring. 

"Think we oughta go," he says finally, like they're simply deciding when to go in to eat. "See if there's other people left. Good people." 

She feels the corners of her mouth lift up. She looks up at the impossibly blue sky, so near the color of his eyes, and says simply, _"oh."_

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Hey, Daryl Dixon," Beth pants, back to back with him. 

"What, Beth Greene?" he asks her, breathing heavily as well, crossbow up. She's got a gun in one hand, blade in the other, her own bow on her back. 

At their feet, three dozen dead walkers. 

"Think if we kill enough of these, we'll kill them all?" she asks, eyes still peeled for any movement of the dead. 

"Nah." slowly, she feels Daryl's arm begin to lower. "Odds ain't great." 

"When have the odds ever stopped you?" she retorts and he gives a little growl, turning to face her, drawing her in for a kiss that tastes like blood and sweat and death and them. Always them. Beth doesn't let him drag it out - though she wants him to, badly - before they both step aside and turn to look at the group huddled against the fence, staring at them in shock and fear, for who could've taken a herd like that, without getting a scratch on them?

Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon, that's who.

Then the leader steps forward with a cocked gun. 

"Who the fuck are you people?" she demands and Beth almost wants to smile, swatting Daryl's side when he brings the bow back up. He still doesn't appreciate her being threatened. 

"I'm Beth Greene," she says, in as sweet a voice as she's able, "and this is my husband, Daryl Dixon. We've been tracking you for several days. And we want to offer to bring you to our camp. We have a safe place. I have pictures, right here. And supplies. We've been monitoring you and we think you're the kind of people we'd like to have back with us." 

They come with her. Beth isn't sure if it's because they trust her or they're desperate for the idea of walls and safety or they're just plain scared of Daryl's bow. Maybe both. It doesn't matter. She leads them back to where they have the van and Daryl's bike and it's a woman who stops her, touching her arm with tears in her eyes. She looks to be quite a few months pregnant, if that's anything to go off of. And her belly is skinny, just like Lori's once was. 

"Thank you," she whispers and Beth rubs her back sympathetically, helping her into the van. 

Beth is going to have to tell Daryl about the baby in her own belly soon. But then she'll have to stop recruiting with him and she wants this one last time in the wilderness with just the two of them. Like it was. Like how it should always be. 

"You can follow us," Beth tells their leader, who's sitting in the van's driver's seat. She nods, looking at Daryl's bike like she can't quite believe what she's seeing. Beth represses the urge to smirk. She still loves climbing on his bike, still loves riding it, feeling 17 again. 

"Ready girl?" he asks her, revving the engine and Beth feels flutters in her belly that can't be the baby, not yet, but she likes to imagine that whoever is in there is responding to Daryl with her. She briefly turns her face to the sunshine, fingers tightening around that familiar leather vest and the man in front of her. Her man. For all time. Till the end of this world. And she tells him the whole truth. 

"I'm ready, Daryl Dixon." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REVIEWS ARE THE GREATEST GIFT I CAN ASK FOR
> 
> AND I MIGHT HUMBLY ASK YOU TO CONTINUE OVER TO THE NEXT WORK IN THIS SERIES, THE DARYL POV (and leave me a review there too?)
> 
> seriously. thank you guys so, so, SO much. i'm not done with bethyl. not be a long shot.


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